LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 

PRESENTED  BY 

MRS.  DONALD  KELLOGG 


IN  AFRICA 


One    Morning's    Bag 


INAFKICA 


Hunting  Adventures  in  the 
Big  Game  Country 


BY 

JOHN  T.  McCUTCHEON 

Cartoonist  of  the  Chicago  Tribune 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PHOTOGRAPHS  AND  CARTOONS 
BY  THE  AUTHOR 


INDIANAPOLIS 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  IQIO 
THE  TRIBUNE  COMPANY,  CHICAGO 


COPYRIGHT  1910 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 


TO  THOSE  ADVENTUROUS  SOULS  WHO 

RESENT  THE  RESTRAINT  OF  THE  BEATEN  PATH 

THESE  OBSERVATIONS  OF  AN  AMATEUR 

ARE  DEDICATED 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

This  collection  of  African  stories  has  no  pretentious 
purpose.  It  is  merely  the  record  of  a  most  delightful  hunt- 
ing trip  into  those  fascinating  regions  along  the  Equator, 
where  one  may  still  have  "thrilling  adventures"  and  live  in 
a  story-book  atmosphere,  where  the  "roar  of  the  lion"  and 
the  "crack  of  the  rifle"  are  part  of  the  every-day  life,  and 
where  in  a  few  months  one  may  store  up  enough  material 
to  keep  the  memory  pleasantly  occupied  all  the  rest  of  a 
lifetime.  The  stories  are  descriptive  of  a  four-and-a-half 
months'  trip  in  the  big  game  country  and  pretend  to  no 
more  serious  purpose  than  merely  to  relate  the  experiences  of 
a  self-confessed  amateur  under  such  conditions. 

JOHN  T.  McCUTCHEON 


August,  1910 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  ONE  PAGE 

The  Preparation  for  Departure.  Experiences  with  Willing 
Friends  and  Advisers 1 

CHAPTER  TWO 

The  First  Half  of  the  Voyage.  From  Naples  to  the  Red  Sea, 
with  a  Few  Side-Lights  on  Indian  Ocean  Travel  ...  13 

CHAPTER  THREE 

The  Island  of  Mombasa,  with  the  Jungles  of  Equatorial  Africa 
"Only  a  Few  Blocks  Away."  A  Story  of  the  World's  Cham- 
pion Man-Eating  Lions 28 

CHAPTER  FOUR 

On  the  Edge  of  the  Athi  Pkins,  Face  to  Face  with  Herds  of 
Wild  Game.  Up  in  a  Balloon  at  Nairobi  ....  43 

CHAPTER  FIVE 

Into  the  Heart  of  the  Big  Game  Country  with  a  Retinue  of 
More  Than  One  Hundred  Natives.  A  Safari  and  What  It  Is  65 

CHAPTER  SIX 

A  Lion  Drive.  With  a  Rhino  in  Range  Some  One  Shouts 
"Simba"  and  I  Get  My  First  Glimpse  of  a  Wild  Lion.  Three 
Shots  and  Out .  82 

CHAPTER  SEVEN 

On  the  Tana  River,  the  Home  of  the  Rhino.  The  Timid  are 
Frightened,  the  Dangerous  Killed,  and  Others  Photographed. 
Moving  Pictures  of  a  Rhino  Charge  .....  105 

CHAPTER  EIGHT 

Meeting  Colonel  Roosevelt  in  the  Uttermost  Outpost  of  Semi- 
Civilization.  He  Talks  of  Many  Things,  Hears  that  he  has  Been 
Reported  Dead,  and  Promptly  Plans  an  Elephant  Hunt  .  133 

CHAPTER  NINE 

The  Colonel  Reads  Macaulay's  "  Essays,"  Discourses  on  Many 
Subjects  with  Great  Frankness,  Declines  a  Drink  of  Scotch 
Whisky,  and  Kills  Three  Elephants 141 


CONTENTS— Continued 

CHAPTER   TEN  PAGE 

Elephant  Hunting  Not  an  Occasion  for  Lightsome  Merrymak- 
ing. Five  Hundred  Thousand  Acres  of  Forest  in  Which  the 
Kenia  Elephant  Lives,  Wanders  and  Brings  Up  His  Children  164 

CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

Nine  Days  Without  Seeing  an  Elephant.  The  Roosevelt 
Party  Departs  and  We  March  for  the  Mountains  on  Our  Big 
Elephant  Hunt.  The  Policeman  of  the  Pkins  .  .  .184 

CHAPTER  TWELVE 

'"Twas  the  Day  Before  Christmas."  Photographing  a  Charg- 
ing Elephant,  Cornering  a  Wounded  Elephant  in  a  River  Jungle 
Growth.  A  Thrilling  Charge.  Hassan's  Courage  .  .  .201 

CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

In  the  Swamps  of  the  Guas  Ngishu.  Beating  for  Lions  We 
Came  Upon  a  Strange  and  Fascinating  Wild  Beast,  Which 
Became  Attached  to  Our  Party.  The  Little  Wanderobo  Dog  214 

CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

Who's  Who  in  Jungleland.  The  Hartebeest  and  the  Wilde- 
beest, the  Amusing  Giraffe  and  the  Ubiquitous  Zebra,  the 
Lovely  Gazelle  and  the  Gentle  Impalla  .....  233 

CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

Some  Natural  History  in  Which  it  is  Revealed  that  a  Sing- 
Sing  Waterbuck  is  Not  a  Singing  Topi,  and  that  a  Topi  is  Not 
a  Species  of  Head-dress 251 

CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

In  the  Tall  Grass  of  the  Mount  Elgon  Country.  A  Narrow 
Escape  from  a  Long- Horned  Rhino.  A  Thanksgiving  Dinner 
and  a  Visit  to  a  Native  Village 269 

CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

Up  and  Down  the  Mountain  Side  from  the  Ketosh  Village  to 
the  Great  Cave  of  Bats.  A  Dramatic  Episode  with  the  Find- 
ing of  a  Black  Baby  as  a  Climax 291 

CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

Electric  Lights,  Motor-Cars  and  Fifteen  Varieties  of  Wild 
Game.  Chasing  Lions  Across  the  Country  in  a  Carriage  .  313 


CONTENTS—  Continued 

CHAPTER  NINETEEN  PAGE 

The  Last  Word  in  Lion  Hunting.  Methods  of  Trailing,  En- 
snaring and  Otherwise  Outwitting  the  King  of  Beasts.  A 
Chapter  of  Adventures 325 

CHAPTER  TWENTY 

Abdullah  the  Cook  and  Some  Interesting  Gastronomic  Exper- 
iences. Thirteen  Tribes  Represented  in  the  Safari.  Abdi's 
Story  of  His  Uncle  and  the  Lions  ......  341 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

Back  Home  from  Africa.  Ninety  Days  on  the  Way  Through 
India,  Java,  China,  Manila  and  Japan.  Three  Chow  Dogs  and 
a  Final  Series  of  Amusing  Adventures 360 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 

Ways  and  Means.  What  to  Take  and  What  Not  to  Take.  In- 
formation for  Those  that  Wish,  Intend  or  Hope  to  Hunt  in  the 
African  Highlands ...  384 


IN  AFRICA 


IN  AFRICA 

CHAPTER  I 

THE    PREPARATION    FOR   DEPARTURE.      EXPERIENCES 
WITH  WILLING  FRIENDS  AND  ADVISERS 

EVER  since  I  can  remember,  almost,  I  have  cher- 
ished a  modest  ambition  to  hunt  lions  and  elephants. 
At  an  early  age,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  at  about  that 
age  which  finds  most  boys  wondering  whether  they 
would  rather  be  Indian  fighters  or  sailors,  I  ran 
across  a  copy  of  Stanley's  Through  the  Dark  Con- 
tinent. It  was  full  of  fascinating  adventures.  I 
thrilled  at  the  accounts  which  spoke  in  terms  of  easy 
familiarity  of  "express"  rifles  and  "elephant"  guns, 
and  in  my  vivid  but  misguided  imagination,  I  pic- 
tured an  elephant  gun  as  a  sort  of  cannon — a  huge, 
unwieldy  arquebus — that  fired  a  ponderous  shell. 
The  old  woodcuts  of  daring  hunters  and  charging 
lions  inspired  me  with  unrest  and  longing — the 
longing  to  bid  the  farm  farewell  and  start  down  the 
road  for  Africa.  Africa!  What  a  picture  it  con- 
jured up  in  my  fancy!  Then,  as  even  now,  it  sym- 
bolized a  world  of  adventurous  possibilities ;  and  in 
my  boyhood  fancy,  it  lay  away  off  there — some- 
where— vaguely — beyond  mountains  and  deserts 
and  oceans,  a  vast,  mysterious,  unknown  land,  that 

1 


2  IN    AFRICA 

swarmed  with  inviting  dangers  and  alluring  ro- 
mance. 

One  by  one  my  other  youthful  ambitions  have 
been  laid  away.  I  have  given  up  hope  of  ever  being 
an  Indian  fighter  out  on  the  plains,  because  the 
pesky  redskins  have  long  since  ceased  to  need  my 
strong  right  arm  to  quell  them.  I  also  have  yielded 
up  my  ambition  to  be  a  sailor,  or  rather,  that  branch 
of  the  profession  in  which  I  hoped  to  specialize — 
piracy — because,  for  some  regretful  reason,  piracy 
has  lost  much  of  its  charm  in  these  days  of  great 
liners.  There  is  no  treasure  to  search  for  any  more, 
and  the  golden  age  of  the  splendid  clipper  ships, 
with  their  immense  spread  of  canvas,  has  given  way 
to  the  unromantic  age  of  the  grimy  steamer,  about 
which  there  is  so  little  to  appeal  to  the  imagination. 
Consequently,  lion  hunting  is  about  the  only  thing 
left — except  wars,  and  they  are  few  and  far  be- 
tween. 

And  so,  after  suffering  this  "lion-hunting"  am- 
bition to  lie  fallow  for  many  years,  I  at  last  reached 
a  day  when  it  seemed  possible  to  realize  it.  The 
chance  came  in  a  curiously  unexpected  way.  Mr. 
Akeley,  a  man  famed  in  African  hunting  exploits, 
was  to  deliver  a  talk  before  a  little  club  to  which  I 
belonged.  I  went,  and  as  a  result  of  my  thrilled 
interest  in  every  word  he  said,  I  met  him  and  talked 
with  him  and  finally  was  asked  to  join  a  new  Afri- 
can expedition  that  he  had  in  prospect.  With  the 
party  were  to  be  Mrs.  Akeley,  with  a  record  of 
fourteen  months  in  the  big  game  country,  and  Mr. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  DEPARTURE      3 

Stephenson,  a  hunter  with  many  years  of  experi- 
ence in  the  wild  places  of  the  United  States,  Canada 
and  Mexico.  My  hunting  experience  had  been 


Getting  Ready  for  Lion  Shooting 

chiefly  gained  in  my  library,  but  for  some  strange 
reason,  it  did  not  seem  incongruous  that  I  should 
begin  my  real  hunting  in  a  lion  and  elephant 
country. 

I  had  all  the  prowess  of  a  Tartarin,  and  during 


4  IN    AFRICA 

the  five  months  that  elapsed  before  I  actually  set 
forth,  I  went  about  my  daily  work  with  a  mind  half 
dazed  with  the  delicious  consciousness  that  I  was 
soon  to  become  a  lion  hunter.  I  feared  that  modern 
methods  might  have  taken  away  much  of  the  old- 
time  romance  of  the  sport,  but  I  felt  certain  that 
there  was  still  to  be  something  left  in  the  way  of 
excitement  and  adventure. 

The  succeeding  pages  of  this  book  contain  the 
chronicle  of  the  nine  delightful  months  that  fol- 
lowed my  departure  from  America. 

In  the  middle  of  August  Mr.  Stephenson  and  I 
arrived  in  London.  Mr.  Akeley  had  ordered  most 
of  our  equipment  by  letter,  but  there  still  remained 
many  things  to  be  done,  and  for  a  week  or  more  we 
were  busy  from  morning  till  night. 

It  is  amazing  how  much  stuff  is  required  to  out- 
fit a  party  of  four  people  for  an  African  shooting 
expedition  of  several  months'  duration.  First  in 
importance  come  the  rifles,  then  the  tents  and  camp 
equipment,  then  the  clothes  and  boots,  then  the 
medical  supplies,  and  finally  the  food.  Perhaps  the 
food  might  be  put  first  in  importance,  but  just  now, 
after  a  hearty  dinner,  it  seems  to  be  the  least  im- 
portant detail. 

Many  men  outfitting  for  an  African  campaign 
among  wild  animals  secure  their  outfits  in  London. 
It  is  there,  in  modest  little  shops,  that  one  gets  the 
•weapons  that  are  known  to  sportsmen  from  one  end 
of  the  world  to  the  other — weapons  designed  ex- 
pressly for  the  requirements  of  African  shooting, 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  DEPARTURE      5 

and  which  have  long  stood  the  test  of  hard,  practical 
service.  For  two  days  we  haunted  these  famous 
gun-makers'  shops,  and  for  two  days  I  made  a  mag- 
nificent attempt  to  look  learnedly  at  things  about 
which  I  knew  little. 

At  last,  after  many  hours  of  gun  shopping,  at- 


Practising  in  the  Museum 

tended  by  the  constant  click  of  a  taxicab  meter,  I 
assembled  such  an  imposing  arsenal  that  I  was 
nervous  whenever  I  thought  about  it.  With  such 
a  battery  it  was  a  foregone  conclusion  that  some- 
thing, or  somebody,  was  likely  to  get  hurt.  I  hoped 
that  it  would  be  something,  and  not  somebody. 

The  old-time  "elephant  gun"  which  shot  an  enor- 
mous ball  and  a  staggering  charge  of  black  powder 


6  IN    AFRICA 

has  given  way  to  the  modern  double-barreled  rifle, 
with  its  steel  bullet  and  cordite  powder.  It  is  not 
half  so  heavy  or  clumsy  as  the  old  timers,  but  its 
power  and  penetration  are  tremendous.  The  larg- 
est of  this  modern  type  is  the  .650  cordite — that  is, 
it  shoots  a  bullet  six  hundred  and  fifty  thousandths 
of  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  has  a  frightful  recoil. 
This  weapon  is  prohibitive  on  account  of  its  recoil, 
and  few,  if  any,  sportsmen  now  care  to  carry  one. 
The  most  popular  type  is  the  .450  and  .475  cordite 
double-barreled  ejector,  hammerless  rifles,  and  these 
are  the  ones  that  every  elephant  hunter  should  have. 
We  started  out  with  the  definite  purpose  of  get- 
ting three  .450s — one  for  Mr.  Akeley,  one  for  Mr. 
Stephenson,  and  one  for  myself;  also  three  nine- 
millimeter  (.375)  Mannlichers  and  two  .256  Mann- 
lichers.  What  we  really  got  were  three  .475  cor- 
dites, two  nine-millimeter  Mannlichers,  one  eight- 
millimeter  Mauser,  and  two  .256  Mannlichers. 
We  were  switched  off  the  ,450s  because  a  govern- 
ment regulation  forbids  the  use  of  that  caliber  in 
Uganda,  although  it  is  permitted  in  British  East 
Africa,  and  so  we  played  safe  by  getting  the  .475s. 
This  rifle  is  a  heavy  gun  that  carries  a  bullet  large 
enough  to  jolt  a  fixed  star  and  recoil  enough  to  put 
one's  starboard  shoulder  in  the  hospital  for  a  day  or 
so.  Theoretically,  the  sportsman  uses  this  weapon 
in  close  quarters,  and  with  a  bullet  placed  according 
to  expert  advice  sees  the  charging  lion,  rhino  or  ele- 
phant turn  a  back  somersault  on  his  way  to  king- 
dom come.  It  has  a  tremendous  impact  and  will 


PREPARATIONS    FOR    DEPARTURE  7 

usually  stop  an  animal  even  if  the  bullet  does  not 
kill  it.  The  bullets  of  a  smaller  rifle  may  kill  the 
animal,  but  not  stop  it  at  once.  An  elephant  or 
lion,  with  a  small  bullet  in  its  heart,  may  still  charge 
for  fifty  or  one  hundred  yards  before  it  falls. 


Advice  from  a  Cheerful  Stranger 

Hence  the  necessity  for  a  rifle  that  will  shock  as 
well  as  penetrate. 

Several  experienced  African  lion  hunters 
strongly  advise  taking  a  "paradox,"  which  in  their 
parlance  is  affectionately  called  a  "cripple-stopper." 
It  looks  like  what  one  would  suppose  an  elephant 
gun  to  look  like.  Its  weight  is  staggering,  and  it 
shoots  a  solid  ball,  backed  up  by  a  fearful  charge  of 


8  IN    AFRICA 

cordite.  They  use  it  under  the  following  condi- 
tions :  Suppose  that  a  big  animal  has  been  wounded 
and  not  instantly  killed.  It  at  once  assumes  the  ag- 
gressive, and  is  savage  beyond  belief.  The  pain  of 
the  wound  infuriates  it  and  its  one  object  in  life  is 
to  get  at  the  man  who  shot  it.  It  charges  in  a  well- 
nigh  irresistible  rush,  and  no  ordinary  bullet  can 
stop  it  unless  placed  in  one  or  two  small  vital  spots. 
Under  the  circumstances  the  hunter  may  not  be  able 
to  hold  his  rifle  steady  enough  to  hit  these  aforesaid 
spots.  That  is  when  the  paradox  comes  in.  The 
hunter  points  it  in  a  general  way  in  the  direction 
of  the  oncoming  beast,  pulls  the  trigger  and  hopes 
for  the  best.  The  paradox  bullet  hits  with  the  force 
of  a  sledge  hammer,  and  stuns  everything  within 
a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  the  hunter  turns  several 
back  somersaults  from  the  recoil  and  fades  into 
bruised  unconsciousness. 

We  decided  not  to  get  the  paradox,  preferring 
to  trust  to  hitting  the  small  vital  spots  rather  than 
transport  the  weapon  by  hand  through  long  tropical 
marches. 

The  nine-millimeter  rifles  were  said  to  be  large 
enough  for  nearly  all  purposes,  but  not  reassuring 
in  extremely  close  quarters.  The  .256  Mannlichers 
are  splendid  for  long  range  shooting,  as  they  carry 
a  small  bore  bullet  and  have  enormous  penetrating 
power. 

The  presumption,  therefore,  was  that  we  should 
first  shoot  the  lion  at  long  range  with  the  .256,  then 
at  a  shorter  range  with  the  nine-millimeter,  then  at 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  DEPARTURE      9 

close  range  with  the  .475  cordite,  and  then  perhaps 
fervently  wish  that  we  had  the  paradox  or  a  balloon. 

After  getting  our  arsenal,  we  then  had  to  get 
the  cartridges,  all  done  up  in  tin  boxes  of  a  weight 
not  exceeding  sixty  pounds,  that  being  the  limit  of 
weight  which  the  African  porter  is  expected  to 
carry.  There  were  several  thousand  rounds  of  am- 
munition, but  this  did  not  mean  that  several  thou- 
sand lions  were  to  be  killed.  Allowing  for  a  fair 
percentage  of  misses,  we  calculated,  if  lucky,  to  get 
one  or  two  lions. 

After  getting  our  rifles  and  ammunition  under 
satisfactory  headway,  we  then  saw  that  our  seventy- 
two  "chop"  boxes  of  food  were  sure  to  be  ready  in 
time  to  catch  our  steamer  at  Southampton! 

And  yet  these  preliminary  details  did  not  half 
conclude  our  shopping  preliminaries  in  London. 
There  were  camping  rugs,  blankets,  cork  mat- 
tresses, pillows  and  pillow  cases,  bed  bags,  tow- 
els, lanterns,  mosquito  boots,  whetstones,  hunt- 
ing and  skinning  knives,  khaki  helmets,  pocket 
tapes  to  measure  trophies,  Pasteur  anti-veno- 
mous serum,  hypodermic  syringes,  chairs,  tables, 
cots,  puttees,  sweaters,  raincoats,  Jaeger  flannels, 
socks  and  pajamas,  cholera  belts,  Burberry 
hunting  clothes,  and  lots  of  other  little  odds  and 
ends  that  seemed  to  be  necessary. 

The  clothes  were  put  up  in  air-proof  tin  uniform 
cases,  small  enough  to  be  easily  carried  by  a  porter 
and  secure  enough  to  keep  out  the  millions  of  ants 
that  were  expected  to  seek  habitation  in  them. 


10 


IN    AFRICA 


Most  of  our  equipment,  especially  the  food  sup- 
plies, had  been  ordered  by  letter,  and  these  we  found 
to  be  practically  ready.  The  remaining  necessities, 
guns,  ammunition,  camera  supplies,  medical  sup- 
plies, clothes,  helmets,  and  so  on,  we  assembled  after 
two  days  of  prodigious  hustling.  There  was  noth- 
ing then  to  be  done  except  to  hope  that  all  our 


Part  of  the  Equipment. 


mountainous  mass  of  equipment  would  be  safely 
installed  on  the  steamer  for  Mombasa.  This  steam- 
er, the  Adolph  Woermann,  sailed  from  Hamburg 
on  the  fourteenth  of  August,  was  due  at  Southamp- 
ton on  the  eighteenth  and  at  Naples  on  the  thirtieth. 
To  avoid  transporting  the  hundred  cases  of  sup- 
plies overland  to  Naples,  it  was  necessary  to  get 
them  to  Southampton  on  the  eighteenth.  It  was  a 


GEt?IMA.N      EAST    AFRICA. 
- --  Ovn  TANA  RIVER.  AND  KENIA 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  DEPARTURE     11 

close  shave,  for  only  by  sending  them  down  by  pas- 
senger train  on  that  morning  were  they  able  to 
reach  Southampton.  Fortunately  our  hopes  were 
fulfilled,  and  at  last  we  received  word  that  they 
were  on  board  and  were  careening  down  toward 
Naples,  where  we  expected  to  join  them  on  the 
thirtieth. 


Studying  the  Lion's  Vital  Spots 

After  disposing  of  this  important  preliminary, 
we  then  had  time  to  visit  the  zoo  at  South  Kensing- 
ton and  the  British  museum  of  natural  history, 
where  we  carefully  studied  many  of  the  animals 
that  we  hoped  to  meet  later  under  less  formal  con- 
ditions. We  picked  out  the  vital  spots,  as  seen 
from  all  angles,  and  nothing  then  remained  to  be 
done  but  to  get  down  to  British  East  Africa  with 


12  IN    AFRICA 

our  rifles  and  see  whether  we  could  hit  those  vital 
spots. 

Mr.  Akeley  had  an  elaborate  moving  picture  ma- 
chine and  we  planned  to  get  some  excellent  pictures 
of  charging  animals.  The  lion,  rhino  or  other  sub- 
ject was  to  be  allowed  to  charge  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  camera  and  then  with  a  crack  of  our  trusty 
rifles  he  was  supposed  to  stop.  We  seemed  safe  in 
assuming,  even  without  exaggeration,  that  this 
would  be  exciting. 

It  was  at  least  that. 

At  last  we  said  farewell  to  London,  a  one-sided 
ceremony,  stopped  at  Rheims  to  see  the  aviators, 
joined  the  Akeleys  at  Paris,  and  after  touching  a 
few  of  the  high  spots  in  Europe,  arrived  in  Naples 
in  ample  time  to  catch  our  boat  for  Mombasa. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  FIRST  HALF  OF  THE  VOYAGE.     FROM  NAPLES  TO 

THE  RED  SEA,  WITH  A  FEW  SIDE  LIGHTS 

ON  INDIAN  OCEAN  TRAVEL 

LION  hunting  had  not  been  fraught  with  any  great 
hardships  or  dangers  up  to  this  time.  The  Mediter- 
ranean was  as  smooth  as  a  mill-pond,  the  Suez  Canal 
was  free  from  any  tempestuous  rolling,  and  the 
Red  Sea  was  placid  and  hot.  After  some  days  we 
were  in  the  Indian  Ocean,  plowing  lazily  along  and 
counting  the  hours  until  we  reached  Mombasa. 
Perhaps  after  that  the  life  of  a  lion  hunter  would  be 
less  tranquil  and  calm. 

The  Adolph  Woermann  was  a  six-thousand- 
three-hundred-ton  ship,  three  years  old,  and  so 
heavily  laden  with  guns  and  ammunition  and  steel 
rails  for  the  Tanga  Railway  that  it  would  hardly 
roll  in  a  hurricane.  There  were  about  sixty  first- 
class  passengers  on  board  and  a  fair  number  in  the 
second  class.  These  passengers  represented  a  dozen 
or  so  different  nationalities,  and  were  bound  for  all 
sorts  of  places  in  East,  Central,  and  South  Africa. 
Some  were  government  officials  going  out  to  their 
stations,  some  were  army  officers,  some  were  profes- 
sional hunters,  and  some  were  private  hunters  going 
out  "for"  to  shoot. 

is 


14  IN    AFRICA 

There  were  also  a  number  of  women  on  board 
and  some  children.  J  don't  know  how  many  children 
there  were,  but  in  the  early  morning  there  seemed  to 
be  a  great  number. 

These  Indian  Ocean  steamers  are  usually  filled 
with  an  interesting  lot  of  passengers.  At  first  you 
may  only  speculate  as  to  who  and  what  they  are 
and  whither  they  are  bound,  but  as  the  days  go  by 
you  get  acquainted  with  many  of  them  and  find  out 
who  nearly  everybody  is  and  all  about  him.  On  this 
steamer  there  were  several  interesting  people.  First 
in  station  and  importance  was  Sir  Percy  Girouard, 
the  newly  appointed  governor  of  British  East 
Africa,  who  was  going  out  to  Nairobi  to  take  his 
position.  Sir  Percy  is  a  splendid  type  of  man,  only 
about  forty-two  years  old,  but  with  a  career  that  has 
been  filled  with  brilliant  achievements.  He  was 
born  in  Canada  and  was  knighted  in  1900.  He 
looks  as  Colonel  Roosevelt  looked  ten  years  ago, 
and,  in  spite  of  a  firm,  definite  personality  of  great 
strength,  is  also  courteous  and  kindly.  He  has  re- 
cently been  the  governor  of  northern  Nigeria,  and 
before  that  time  served  in  South  Africa  and  the 
Soudan.  It  was  of  him  that  Lord  Kitchener  said 
"the  Soudan  Railway  would  never  have  been  built 
without  his  services." 

The  new  governor  was  accompanied  by  two  staff 
officers,  one  a  Scotchman  and  the  other  an  Irish- 
man, and  both  of  them  with  the  clean,  healthy  look 
of  the  young  British  army  officer.  There  would  be 
a  big  reception  at  Mombasa,  no  doubt,  with  bands 


"  Crossing   the   Line "   Ceremonies 


Before  and  After  Outfitting 


16  IN    AFRICA 

a-playing  and  fireworks  popping,  when  the  ship 
arrived  with  the  new  executive. 

There  were  also  several  officials  with  high-sound- 
ing titles  who  were  going  out  to  their  stations  in 
German  East  Africa.  These  gentlemen  were  mostly 
accompanied  by  wives  and  babies  and  between  them 
they  imparted  a  spirited  scene  of  domesticity  to  the 
life  on  shipboard.  The  effect  of  a  man  wheeling  a 
baby  carriage  about  the  deck  was  to  make  one 
think  of  some  peaceful  place  far  from  the  deck  of  a 
steamer. 

Little  Tim  was  the  life  of  the  ship.  He  was  a  lit- 
tle boy  aged  eighteen  months,  who  began  life  at 
Sombra,  in  Nyassaland,  British  Central  Africa. 
Just  now  he  was  returning  from  England  with  his 
father  and  mother.  Little  Tim  had  curly  hair, 
looked  something  like  a  brownie,  and  was  brimming 
over  with  energy  and  curiosity  every  moment  that 
he  was  awake.  If  left  alone  five  minutes  he  was 
quite  likely  to  try  to  climb  up  the  rigging.  Conse- 
quently he  was  never  left  alone,  and  the  decks  were 
constantly  echoing  with  a  fond  mother's  voice  beg- 
ging him  not  to  "do  that,"  or  to  "come  right  here, 
Tim."  One  of  Tim's  chief  diversions  was  to  divest 
himself  of  all  but  his  two  nearest  articles  of  wear 
and  sit  in  the  scuppers  with  the  water  turned  on.  A 
crowd  of  passengers  was  usually  grouped  around 
him  and  watched  his  manoeuvers  with  intense  inter- 
est. He  was  probably  photographed  a  hundred 
times  and  envied  by  everybody  on  board.  It  was  so 
fearfully  hot  in  the  Red  Sea  that  to  be  seated  in 


FROM  NAPLES  TO  THE  RED  SEA     17 

running  water  with  almost  no  clothes  on  seemed 
about  the  nicest  possible  way  to  pass  the  time. 
There  was  a  professional  elephant  hunter  on 


Little  Tim. 

board.  He  was  a  quiet,  reserved  sort  of  man,  pleas- 
ant, and  not  at  all  bloodthirsty  in  appearance.  He 
had  spent  twenty  years  shooting  in  Africa,  and  had 
killed  three  hundred  elephants.  On  his  last  trip,  dur- 
ing which  he  spent  nearly  four  years  in  the  Congo, 


18 


IN    AFRICA 


he  secured  about  two  and  one-half  tons  of  ivory. 
This  great  quantity  of  tusks,  worth  nearly  five  dol- 
lars a  pound,  brought  him  over  twenty  thousand 
dollars,  after  paying  ten  per  cent,  to  the  Congo 


The  Elephant  Hunter  and  His  Bag 

government.  The  Belgians  place  no  limit  upon  the 
number  of  elephants  one  may  shoot,  just  so  they  get 
their  rake-off.  In  British  territory,  however,  sports- 
men are  limited  to  only  two  elephants  a  year  to 
those  holding  licenses  to  shoot.  Our  elephant 
hunter  friend  was  now  on  his  way  back  to  shoot 
some  more. 


FROM    NAPLES    TO    THE    RED    SEA  19 

There  was  another  interesting  character  on  board 
who  caused  many  of  us  to  stop  and  think.  He 
was  a  young  British  army  officer  who  was  mauled  by 
a  lioness  several  months  ago  in  Somaliland.  He 
now  walked  with  a  decided  limp  and  was  likely  to 
lose  his  commission  in  the  army  because  of  physical 
infirmities.  He  was  cheerful,  pleasant,  and  looked 
hopefully  forward  to  a  time  when  he  could  have  an- 
other go  at  a  lion.  This  is  the  way  the  thing  hap- 
pened :  Last  March  he  was  shooting  in  Somaliland 
and  ran  across  a  lioness.  He  shot  her,  but  failed  to 
disable  her.  She  immediately  charged,  chewed  up 
his  leg,  arm  and  shoulder,  and  was  then  killed  by  his 
Somali  gunbearer.  He  was  days  from  any  help.  He 
dressed  his  own  wounds  and  the  natives  tried  to 
carry  him  to  the  nearest  settlement.  Finally  his 
bandages  were  exhausted,  the  natives  deserted,  and 
it  was  only  after  frightful  suffering  that  he 
reached  help.  In  three  weeks  blood  poisoning  set 
in,  as  is  usual  after  the  foul  teeth  of  a  lion  have 
entered  the  flesh,  and  for  several  months  he  was 
close  to  death.  Now  he  was  up  and  about,  cheerful 
and  sunny,  but  a  serious  object  lesson  to  the  lion 
hunters  bound  for  the  lair  of  the  lion. 

In  the  smoking-room  of  the  Adolph  Woermann 
was  a  bronze  bust  of  Mr.  Woermann  presented  by 
himself.  Whether  he  meant  to  perpetuate  his  own 
memory  is  not  vital  to  the  story.  The  amusing 
feature  lies  in  the  fact  that  some  irreverent  passen- 
ger, whose  soul  was  dead  to  the  sacredness  of  art, 
put  a  rough  slouch  hat  on  Mr.  Woermann  one 


20 


IN    AFRICA 


night,  with  side-splitting  results.  Mr.  W.  is  a  man 
with  a  strong,  intelligent  German  face,  something 
like  that  of  Prince  Henry,  and  in  the  statue  ap- 
pears with  bare  neck  and  shoulders.  The  addition 


Having  Fun  with  Mr.  Woermann. 

of  a  rakish  slouch  hat  produced  a  startling  effect, 
greatly  detracting  from  the  strictly  artistic,  but 
adding  much  to  the  interest  of  the  bust.  It  looked 
very  much  as  though  he  had  been  ashore  at  Aden 
and  had  come  back  on  board  feeling  the  way  a  man 


An  African  H air-Cut 

does  when  he  wants  his  hat  on  the  side  of  his  head. 
Still,  what  can  a  shipowner  expect  who  puts  a  nude 
bust  of  himself  in  his  own  ship? 


22  IN    AFRICA 

The  ship's  barber  was  the  Associated  Press  of  the 
ship's  company,  and  his  shop  was  the  Park  Row  of 
the  vessel.  He  had  plenty  of  things  to  talk  about 
and  more  than  enough  words  to  express  them. 
Every  vague  rumor  that  floated  about  was  sure  to 
find  lodgment  in  the  barber  shop,  just  as  a  piece  of 
driftwood  finally  reaches  the  beach.  He  knew  all 
the  secrets  of  the  voyage  and  told  them  freely. 

One  day  I  went  down  to  have  my  hair  trimmed. 
He  asked  if  I'd  have  it  done  African  style.  "How's 
that?"  I  inquired.  "Shaved,"  said  he,  and  "No," 
said  I.  A  number  of  the  Germans  on  board  were 
adopting  the  African  style  of  hair-cut,  and  the 
eifect  was  something  depressing.  Every  bump 
that  had  lain  dormant  under  a  mat  of  hair  at  once 
assumed  startling  proportions,  and  red  ears  that 
were  retiring  suddenly  stuck  out  from  the  pale 
white  scalp  like  immense  flappers.  A  devotee  of 
this  school  of  tonsorial  art  had  a  peeled  look  that 
did  not  commend  him  to  favorable  mention  in 
artistic  circles.  But  the  flies,  they  loved  it,  so  it  was 
an  ill  wind  that  blew  no  good. 

The  Red  Sea  has  a  well-earned  reputation  of  be- 
ing hot.  We  expected  a  certain  amount  of  sultri- 
ness, but  not  in  such  lavish  prodigality  as  it  was  de- 
livered. The  first  day  out  from  Suez  found  the 
passengers  peeling  off  unnecessary  clothes,  and  the 
next  day  found  the  men  sleeping  out  on  deck. 
There  wasn't  much  sleeping.  The  band  concert 
lasted  until  ten-thirty,  then  the  three  Germans  who 
were  trying  to  drink  all  the  beer  on  board  gave  a 


FROM    NAPLES    TO    THE    RED    SEA  23 

nightly  saengerfest  that  lasted  until  one  o'clock, 
and  then  the  men  who  wash  down  the  decks  ap- 
peared at  four.  Between  one  and  four  it  was  too 
hot  to  sleep,  so  that  there  wasn't  much  restful  repose 
on  the  ship  until  we  got  out  of  the  Red  Sea. 

Down  at  the  end  of  the  Red  Sea  are  the  straits 


We  Slept  on  Deck  in  the  Red  Sea 

of  Bab-el-Mandeb.  In  the  middle  of  the  straits  is 
the  island  of  Perim,  a  sun-baked,  bare  and  unin- 
viting chunk  of  land  that  has  great  strategic  value 
and  little  else.  It  absolutely  commands  the  en- 
trance to  the  Red  Sea,  and,  naturally,  is  British. 
Nearly  all  strategic  points  in  the  East  are  British, 
from  Gibraltar  to  Singapore.  A  lighthouse,  a  sig- 


24  IN    AFRICA 

nal  station,  and  a  small  detachment  of  troops  are 
the  sole  points  of  interest  in  Perim,  and  as  one  rides 
past  one  breathes  a  fervent  prayer  of  thanksgiving 
that  he  is  not  one  of  the  summer  colony  on  Perim. 

They  tell  a  funny  story  about  an  English  officer 
who  was  sent  to  Perim  to  command  the  detachment. 
At  the  end  of  six  months  an  official  order  was  sent 
for  his  transfer,  because  no  one  is  expected  to  last 
longer  than  six  months  without  going  crazy  or  com- 
mitting suicide.  To  the  great  surprise  of  the  war 
office  a  letter  came  back  stating  that  the  officer  was 
quite  contented  at  Perim,  that  he  liked  the  peace 
and  quiet  of  the  place,  and  begged  that  he  be  given 
leave  to  remain  another  six  months.  The  war  office 
was  amazed,  and  it  gladly  gave  him  the  extension. 
At  the  end  of  a  year  the  same  exchange  of  letters 
occurred  and  again  he  was  given  the  extension. 

I  don't  know  how  long  this  continued,  but  in  the 
end  the  war  office  discovered  that  the  officer  had 
been  in  London  having  a  good  time  while  a  ser- 
geant-major attended  to  the  sending  of  the  bi- 
annual letter.  I  suppose  the  officer  divided  his  pay 
with  the  sergeant-major.  If  he  did  not  he  was  a 
most  ungrateful  man. 

The  Adolph  Woermann  is  a  German  ship  and  is 
one  of  the  best  ones  that  go  down  the  east  coast. 
Its  passengers  go  to  the  British  ports  in  British 
East  Africa,  to  the  German  ports  in  German  East 
Africa,  and  to  several  other  ports  in  South  Afjica. 
Consequently  the  passengers  are  about  equally  di- 
vided between  the  English  and  the  Germans,  with 


FROM  NAPLES  TO  THE  RED  SEA     25 

an  occasional  Portuguese  bound  for  Delagoa  Bay 
or  Mozambique. 

When  we  first  went  aboard  our  party  of  four 
desired  to  secure  a  table  by  ourselves.  We  were  un- 
successful, however,  and  found  it  shared  by  a 
peaceful  old  gentleman  with  whiskers.  By  cross- 
ing with  gold  the  palm  of  the  chief  steward,  the  old 
gentleman  was  shifted  to  a  seat  on  the  first  officer's 
right.  Later  we  discovered  that  he  was  Sir  Thomas 
Scanlon,  the  first  premier  of  South  Africa,  the  man 
who  gave  Cecil  Rhodes  his  start. 

There  were  many  interesting  elements  which 
made  the  cruise  of  the  Woermann  unusual.  Mr. 
Boyce  and  his  party  of  six  were  on  board  and  were 
on  their  way  to  photograph  East  Africa.  They  took 
moving  pictures  of  the  various  deck  sports,  also 
a  bird's-eye  picture  of  the  ship,  taken  from  a  camera 
suspended  by  a  number  of  box  kites,  and  also  gave 
two  evenings  of  cinematograph  entertainment. 

There  were  also  poker  games,  bridge  games,  and 
other  forms  of  seaside  sports,  all  of  which  con- 
tributed to  the  gaiety  of  life  in  the  Indian  Ocean. 
In  the  evening  one  might  have  imagined  oneself 
at  a  London  music-hall,  in  the  daytime  at  the  Olym- 
pian games,  and  in  the  early  morning  out  on  the 
farm.  There  were  a  number  of  chickens  on  board 
and  each  rooster  seemed  obliged  to  salute  the  dawn 
with  a  fanfare  of  crowing.  They  belonged  to  the 
governor  and  were  going  out  to  East  Africa  to 
found  a  colony  of  chickens.  Some  day,  years  hence, 
the  proud  descendents  of  these  chickens  will  boast 


Mauled  by  a  Lion. 

that  their  ancestors  came  over  on  the  Woermann^ 
just  as  some  people  boast  about  their  ancestors  on 
the  Mayflower. 

When  we  crossed  the  equator,  a  committee  of 
strong-arm  men  baptized  those  of  the  passengers 


FROM    NAPLES    TO    THE    RED    SEA  27 

who  had  never  before  crossed  the  line.  Those  who 
had  crossed  the  line  entered  into  the  fun  of  the 
occasion  with  much  spirit  and  enthusiasm. 

On  the  hottest  day  of  the  trip,  just  as  we  left 
Suez,  when  the  mercury  was  sputtering  from  the 
heat,  we  heard  that  the  north  pole  had  been  discov- 
ered. It  cooled  us  off  considerably  for  a  while. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   ISLAND  OF  MOMBASA,   WITH   THE  JUNGLES  OF 
EQUATORIAL  AFRICA   "ONLY  A  FEW   BLOCKS 
AWAY."    A  STORY  OF  THE  WORLD'S  CHAM- 
PION MAN-EATING  LIONS 

IN  this  voyage  of  the  Woermann  there  were  about 
twenty  Englishmen  and  thirty  Germans  in  the  first 
class,  not  including  women  and  children.  There 
was  practically  no  communication  between  the  two 
nationalities,  which  seemed  deeply  significant  in 
these  days  when  there  is  so  much  talk  of  war  be- 
tween England  and  Germany.  Each  went  his  way 
without  so  much  as  a  "good  morning"  or  a  guten 
abend.  And  it  was  not  a  case  of  unf  amiliarity  with 
the  languages,  either,  that  caused  this  mutual 
restraint,  for  most  of  the  Germans  speak  English. 
It  was  simply  an  evidence  that  at  the  present  time 
there  is  decidedly  bad  feeling  between  the  two  races, 
and  if  it  is  a  correct  barometer  of  conditions  in 
Europe,  there  is  certain  to  be  war  one  of  these  days. 
On  the  Woermann,  we  only  hoped  that  it  would  not 
break  out  while  the  weather  was  as  hot  as  it  was  at 
that  time. 

The  Germans  are  not  addicted  to  deck  sports 
while  voyaging  about,  and  it  is  quite  unusual  to 
find  on  German  ships  anything  in  the  way  of  deck 

28 


THE    ISLAND    OF    MOMBASA  29 

competition.  The  German,  while  resting,  prefers 
to  play  cards,  or  sing,  or  sit  in  his  long  easy  chair 
with  the  children  playing  about.  The  Englishman 
likes  to  compete  in  feats  of  strength  and  takes  to 
deck  sports  as  a  duck  takes  to  water.  I  don't  know 
who  started  it,  but  some  one  organized  deck  sports 
on  the  Woermann,  and  after  we  left  Aden  the 
sound  of  battle  raged  without  cessation.  Some  of 


The  Cock  Fight 

the  competitions  were  amusing.  For  instance, 
there  was  the  cockfight.  Two  men,  with  hands  and 
knees  hobbled  with  a  stick  and  stout  rope,  seat  them- 
selves inside  a  circle,  and  the  game  is  for  each  one  to 
try  to  put  the  other  outside  the  circle.  Neither  can 
use  his  hands. 

It  is  like  wrestling  in  a  sitting  position  with  both 
hands  tied,  the  mode  of  attack  being  to  topple  over 
one's  opponent  and  then  bunt  him  out  of  the  circle. 
There  is  considerable  skill  in  the  game  and  a  fear- 


30  IN    AFRICA 

ful  lot  of  hard  work.  By  the  time  the  victor  has 
won,  the  seat  of  the  trousers  of  each  of  the  two  con- 
tending heroes  has  cleaned  the  deck  until  it  shines — 
the  deck,  not  the  trousers. 

In  a  similar  way  the  deck  is  benefited  by  the  "are 
you  there"  game.  Two  men  are  blindfolded,  armed 
with  long  paper  clubs,  and  then  lie  at  full  length 
on  the  deck,  with  left  hands  clasped.  One  then  says, 


"Are  You  There?" 

"Are  you  there?"  and  when  the  other  answers,  "I 
am,"  he  makes  a  wild  swat  at  where  he  thinks  the 
other's  head  to  be.  Of  course,  when  the  man  says  "I 
am,"  he  immediately  gets  his  head  as  far  away  from 
where  it  was  when  he  spoke  as  is  possible  while 
clasping  his  opponent's  hand.  The  "Are  you  there" 
man  makes  a  wild  swing  and  lands  some  place  with 
a  prodigious  thump.  He  usually  strikes  the  deck 
and  seldom  hits  the  head  of  the  other  man.  If  one 
of  them  hits  the  other's  head  three  times  he  wins. 


A    Study   in    Mombasa    Shadows 


Mombasa   Is   a   Pretty   Place 


Street    Transportation    in    Mombasa 


THE    ISLAND    OF    MOMBASA 


31 


In  the  meantime  the  deck  has  been  thoroughly  mas- 
saged by  the  two  recumbent  heroes  as  they  have 
moved  back  and  forth  in  their  various  offensive  and 
defensive  maneuvers. 


The  Spar  and  Pillow  Fight 

The  pillow  fight  on  the  spar  is  the  most  fun. 
Two  gladiators  armed  with  pillows  sit  astride  a  spar 
and  try  to  knock  each  other  off.  It  requires  a  good 
deal  of  knack  to  keep  your  balance  while  some  one 
is  pounding  you  with  a  large  pillow.  You  are  not 


32  IN    AFRICA 

allowed  to  touch  the  spar  with  your  hands,  hence 
the  difficulty  of  holding  a  difficult  position.  When 
a  man  begins  to  waver  the  other  redoubles  his  attack, 
and  slowly  at  first,  but  surely,  the  defeated  gladia- 
tor tumbles  off  the  spar  into  a  canvas  stretched  sev- 
eral feet  below.  It  is  lots  of  fun,  especially  for  the 
spectator  and  the  winner. 

Then,  of  course,  there  were  other  feats  of  intel- 
lectual and  physical  prowess  in  the  Woermann 
competition,  such  as  threading  the  needle,  where 
you  run  across  the  deck,  thread  a  needle  held  by  a 
woman,  and  then  drag  her  back  to  the  starting 
point.  The  woman  usually,  in  the  excitement  of 
the  last  spirited  rush,  falls  over  and  is  bodily 
dragged  several  yards,  squealing  wildly  and  wav- 
ing a  couple  of  much  agitated  deck  shoes,  and  so 
forth. 

Similar  to  this  contest  is  the  one  where  the  gen- 
tleman dashes  across  the  deck  with  several  other 
equally  dashing  gentlemen,  kneels  at  the  feet  of  a 
woman  who  ties  his  necktie  and  then  lights  his  cigar- 
ette. The  game  is  to  see  who  can  do  this  the  quick- 
est and  get  back  to  the  starting  place  first.  If  you 
have  ever  tried  to  light  a  cigarette  in  a  terrible  hurry 
and  on  a  windy  deck,  you  will  appreciate  the  ele» 
ments  of  uncertainty  in  the  game. 

These  deck  sports  served  to  amuse  and  divert 
during  the  six  days  on  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  then 
the  ship's  chart  said  that  we  were  almost  at  Mom- 
basa. The  theoretical  stage  of  the  lion  hunt  was 
nearly  over  and  it  was  now  a  matter  of  only  a  few 


THE    ISLAND    OF    MOMBASA 


33 


days  until  we  should  be  up  against  the  "real  thing." 
I  sometimes  wondered  how  I  should  act  with  a  hos- 
tile lion  in  front  of  me — whether  I  would  become 
panic-stricken  or  whether  my  nerve  would  hold 
true.  There  is  lots  of  food  for  reverie  when  one  is 
going  against  big  game  for  the  first  time. 

We  landed  at  Mombasa  September  sixteenth, 
seventeen  days  out  from  Naples. 


Chalking  the  Pig's  Eye 

Mombasa  is  a  little  island  about  two  by  three 
miles  in  extent.  It  is  riotous  with  brilliant  vegeta- 
tion, and,  as  seen  after  a  long  sea  voyage  through 
the  Red  Sea  and  the  Indian  Ocean,  it  looks  heavenly 
except  for  the  heat.  Hundreds  of  great  baobab 
trees  with  huge,  bottle-like  trunks  and  hundreds  of 
broad  spreading  mango  trees  give  an  effect  of 
tropical  luxuriance  that  is  hardly  to  be  excelled  in 
beauty  anywhere  in  the  East.  Large  ships  that  stop 
at  the  island  usually  wind  their  course  through  a 


84,  IN    AFRICA 

narrow  channel  and  land  their  passengers  and 
freight  at  the  dock  at  Kilindini,  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  the  old  Portuguese  town  of  Mombasa,  where 
all  the  life  of  the  island  is  centered.  There  are  many 
relics  of  the  old  days  around  the  town  of  Mombasa 
and  the  port  of  Kilindini,  but  since  the  British  have 
been  in  possession  a  brisk  air  of  progress  and  en- 
terprise is  evident  everywhere.  Young  men  and 
young  women  in  tennis  flannels,  and  other  typical 
symptoms  of  British  occupation  are  constantly  seen, 
and  one  entirely  forgets  that  one  is  several  thousand 
miles  from  home  and  only  a  few  blocks  from  the 
jungles  of  equatorial  Africa.  We  dreaded  Mom- 
basa before  we  arrived,  but  were  soon  agreeably 
disappointed  to  find  it  not  only  beautiful  and  in- 
teresting, but  also  pleasantly  cool  and  full  of  most 
hospitable  social  life. 

When  our  ship  anchored  off  Kilindini  there  was 
a  great  crowd  assembled  on  the  pier.  There  were 
many  smart  looking  boats,  manned  with  uniformed 
natives,  that  at  once  came  out  to  the  ship,  and  we 
knew  that  the  town  was  en  fete  to  welcome  the 
newly  appointed  governor,  Sir  Percy  Girouard. 

He  and  his  staff  landed  in  full  uniform.  There 
were  addresses  of  welcome  at  the  pier,  a  great  deal 
of  cheering  and  considerable  photographing.  Then 
the  rest  of  the  passengers  went  ashore  and  spent 
several  hours  at  the  custom  house.  All  personal 
luggage  was  passed  through,  and  we  embarked  on 
a  little  train  for  Mombasa.  The  next  day  we  regis- 
tered our  firearms  and  had  Smith,  Mackenzie  and 


THE    ISLAND    OF    MOMBASA  35 

Company  do  the  rest.  This  firm  is  ubiquitous  in 
Mombasa  and  Zanzibar.  They  attend  to  everything 
for  you,  and  relieve  you  from  much  worry,  vexation 
and  rupees.  They  pay  your  customs  duties,  get  your 
mountains  of  stuff  on  the  train  for  Nairobi,  and  all 
you  have  to  do  is  to  pay  them  a  commission  and  look 
pleasant.  The  customs  duty  is  ten  per  cent,  on 
everything  you  have,  and  the  commission  is  five  per 
cent.  But  in  a  hot  climate,  where  one  is  apt  to  feel 
lazy,  the  price  is  cheap. 

Thanks  to  the  governor,  our  party  of  four  was 
invited  to  go  to  Nairobi  on  his  special  train.  It 
left  Mombasa  on  the  morning  of  the  nineteenth  of 
September,  and  at  once  began  to  climb  toward  the 
plateau  on  which  Nairobi  is  situated,  three  hundred 
and  twenty-seven  miles  away.  We  had  dreaded  the 
railway  ride  through  the  lowlands  along  the  coast, 
for  that  district  has  a  bad  reputation  for  fever  and 
all  such  ills.  But  again  we  were  pleasantly  disap- 
pointed. The  country  was  beautiful  and  interest- 
ing, and  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  arrived 
at  Voi,  a  spot  that  is  synonymous  with  human  ail- 
ments. It  is  one  of  the  famous  ill  health  resorts  of 
Africa,  but  on  this  occasion  it  was  on  its  good  be- 
havior. We  stopped  four  hours,  inspected  every- 
thing in  sight,  and  at  eight  o'clock  the  special  began 
to  climb  toward  the  plateau  of  East  Africa.  At 
nine  o'clock  we  stopped  at  Tsavo,  a  place  made 
famous  by  the  two  man-eating  lions  whose  terrible 
depredations  have  been  so  vividly  described  by 
Colonel  Patterson  in  his  book,  The  Man  Eaters  of 


36  IN    AFRICA 

Tsavo.  These  two  lions  absolutely  stopped  all  work 
on  the  railroad  for  a  period  of  several  weeks.  They 
were  daring  beyond  belief,  and  seemed  to  have  no 
fear  of  human  beings.  For  a  time  all  efforts  to  kill 
them  were  in  vain.  Twenty-eight  native  workmen 
were  eaten  by  them,  and  doubtless  many  more  were 
unrecorded  victims  of  their  activity.  The  wrhole 
country  was  terrorized  until  finally,  after  many  fu- 
tile attempts,  they  were  at  last  killed. 

No  book  on  Africa  seems  complete  unless  this 
incident  is  mentioned  somewhere  within  its  pages. 

We  looked  out  at  Tsavo  with  devouring  interest. 
All  was  still,  with  the  dead  silence  of  a  tropical 
night.  Then  the  train  steamed  on  and  we  had  sev- 
eral hours  in  a  berth  to  think  the  matter  over.  In 
the  early  hours  of  morning,  we  stopped  at  Simba, 
the  "Place  of  Lions,"  where  the  station-master  has 
many  lion  scares  even  now.  In  the  cold  darkness  of 
the  night  we  bundled  up  in  thick  clothes  and  went 
forward  to  sit  on  the  observation  seat  of  the  engine. 
Slowly  the  eastern  skies  became  gray,  then  pink, 
and  finally  day  broke  through  heavy  masses  of 
clouds.  It  was  intensely  cold.  In  the  faint  light  we 
could  see  shadowy  figures  of  animals  creeping  home 
after  their  night's  hunting.  A  huge  cheetah 
bounded  along  the  track  in  front  of  us.  A  troop 
of  giraffes  slowly  ambled  away  from  the  track. 
A  gaunt  hyena  loped  off  into  the  scrub  near  the 
side  of  the  railroad  and  then,  as  daylight  becan?e 
brighter,  we  found  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  thou- 
sands of  wild  animals.  Zebras,  hartebeests,  Grant's 


THE    ISLAND    OF    MOMBASA  87 

gazelles,  Thompson's  gazelles,  impalla,  giraffes, 
wildebeests,  and  many  other  antelope  species  can- 
tered off  and  stood  to  watch  the  train  as  it  swept 
past  them.  It  was  a  wonderful  ride,  perhaps  the 
most  novel  railway  ride  to  be  found  any  place  in 
the  world.  On  each  side  of  the  Uganda  Railroad 
there  is  a  strip  of  land,  narrow  on  the  north  and 
wide  on  the  south,  in  which  game  is  protected  from 
the  sportsman,  and  consequently  the  animals  have 
learned  to  regard  these  strips  as  sanctuary.  There 
were  many  tales  of  lions  as  we  rode  along,  and  the 
imagination  pictured  a  slinking  lion  in  every  patch 
of  reeds  along  the  way.  I  heard  one  lion  story  that 
makes  the  man-eaters  of  Tsavo  seem  like  vege- 
tarians. It  was  told  to  me  by  a  gentleman  high  in 
the  government  service — a  man  of  unimpeachable 
veracity.  He  says  the  story  is  absolutely  true,  but 
refused  to  swear  to  it. 

Once  upon  a  time,  so  the  story  goes,  there  was  a 
caravan  of  slaves  moving  through  the  jungles  of 
Africa.  The  slave-drivers  were  cruel  and  they 
chained  the  poor  savages  together  in  bunches  of 
ten.  Each  slave  wore  an  iron  ring  around  his  neck 
and  the  chain  passed  through  this  ring  and  on  to 
the  rest  of  the  ten.  For  days  and  weeks  and  months 
they  marched  along,  their  chains  clanking  and  their 
shoulders  bending  beneath  the  heavy  weight.  From 
time  to  time  the  slave-drivers  would  jog  them  along 
with  a  few  lashes  from  a  four-cornered  "hippo" 
hide  kiboko,  or  whip.  Quite  naturally  the  life 
was  far  from  pleasant  to  the  chain-gang  and  they 


38  IN    AFRICA 

watched  eagerly  for  a  chance  to  escape.  Finally 
one  dark  night,  when  the  sentinels  were  asleep,  a 
bunch  of  ten  succeeded  in  creeping  away  into  the 


They  Made  Their  Way  Steadily  Toward  the  Coast 

darkness.  They  were  unarmed  and  chained  from 
neck  to  neck,  one  to  another.  For  several  days  they 
made  their  way  steadily  toward  the  coast.  All 
seemed  well.  They  ate  fruit  and  nuts  and  herbs  and 
began  to  see  visions  of  a  pleasant  arrival  at  the 
coast. 

But,  alas !  Their  hopes  were  soon  to  be  dispelled. 
One  night  a  deep  rumbling  roar  was  heard  in  the 
jungle  through  which  they  were  picking  their 
unanimous  way.  A  shudder  ran  through  the  slaves. 
"Simbaf*  they  whispered  in  terror.  A  little  while 
later  there  was  another  rumble,  this  time  much 
closer.  They  speedily  became  more  frightened. 
Here  they  were,  ten  days'  march  from  the  coast, 
unarmed,  and  quite  defenseless  against  a  lion. 

Presently  the  lion  appeared,  his  cruel,  hungry 
eyes  gleaming  through  the  night.  They  were 


THE    ISLAND    OF    MOMBASA  39 

frozen  with  horror,  as  slowly,  slowly,  slowly  the 
great  animal  crept  toward  them  with  his  tail  sibi- 
lantly  lashing  above  his  back.  They  were  now  thor- 
oughly alarmed  and  realized  to  the  utmost  that  the 
lion's  intentions  were  open  to  grave  suspicion. 
Breathlessly  they  waited,  or  perhaps  they  tried  to 
climb  trees,  but  being  chained  together  they  could 
not  climb  more  than  one  tree.  And  there  was  not  a 


The  Lion's  Intentions  Were  Open  to  Grave  Suspicions. 

single  tree  big  enough  to  hold  more  than  nine  of 
them.  The  record  of  the  story  is  now  obscure,  but 
the  horrid  tale  goes  on  to  relate  that  the  lion  gave 
a  frightful  roar  and  leaped  upon  the  tenth  man, 
biting  him  to  death  in  a  single  snap.  The  dilemma 
of  the  others  is  obvious.  They  knew  better  than  to 
disturb  a  lion  while  it  is  eating.  To  do  so  would  be 
to  court  sudden  death.  So  they  sat  still  and  watched 
the  beast  slowly  and  greedily  devour  their  com- 
rade. Having  finished  his  meal  the  great  beast, 
surfeited  with  food,  slowly  moved  off  into  the  jun- 
gle. 

Immediately  the  nine  remaining  slaves  took  to 


40  IN    AFRICA 

their  heels,  dragging  the  empty  ring  and  chain  of 
the  late  number  ten.  All  night  long  they  ran  until 
finally  they  became  exhausted  and  fell  asleep.  In 
the  afternoon  they  again  resumed  their  march, 
hopeful  once  more.  But  alas !  again. 

Along  about  supper-time  they  heard  the  distant 
roar  of  a  lion.  Presently  it  sounded  nearer  and  soon 
the  gleaming  eyes  of  the  lion  appeared  once  more 
among  the  jungle  grass.  Once  again  they  were 
frozen  with  horror  as  the  hungry  beast  devoured 
the  last  man  in  the  row — number  nine.  Again  they 


While  the  Man-Eater  Finished  His  Supper 

sat  helpless  while  the  man-eater  slowly  finished  his 
supper,  and  again  they  were  overjoyed  to  see  him 
depart  from  their  midst.  As  soon  as  the  last  vestige 
of  his  tail  had  disappeared  from  view  they  scram- 
bled up  and  hiked  briskly  toward  the  coast,  nine 
days  away. 

They  were  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  and  almost 
dreaded  the  supper  hour.  The  next  night  the  lion 
caught  up  with  them  again  and  proceeded  to  de- 
vour number  eight.  He  then  peacefully  ambled 
away,  leaving  another  empty  ring. 


THE    ISLAND    OF    MOMBASA  41 

The  next  night  there  was  a  spirited  contest  to  see 
which  end  of  the  chain  should  be  last,  but  a  vote  was 
taken  and  it  was  decided  six  to  one  in  favor  of  con- 
tinuing in  their  original  formation.  The  one  who 
voted  against  was  eaten  that  night  and  the  remain- 
ing six,  with  the  four  empty  rings  clanking  behind 
them,  resumed  their  mournful  march  to  the  coast, 
six  days  away. 

For  five  nights  after  this,  the  lion  caught  up 
with  them  and  diminished  their  number  by  five. 
Finally  there  was  only  one  left  and  the  coast  was  a 
full  day's  march  away.  Could  he  make  it?  It 
looked  like  a  desperate  chance,  but  he  still  had 
hopes.  He  noticed  with  pleasure  that  the  lion  was 
becoming  fat  and  pr6bably  could  not  travel  fast. 
But  he  also  noticed  with  displeasure  that  he  had 
forty  feet  of  chain  and  nine  heavy  iron  neck  rings 
to  lug  along  and  that  extra  weight  naturally 


Trvo  to  One 

greatly  handicapped  him.  It  was  a  thrilling  race — 
the  coast  only  one  day  away  and  life  or  death  the 
prize!  Who  can  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  poor 
slave?  But  with  a  stout  heart  he  struggled  on 
through  poisonous  morasses,  and  pushed  his  way 


42  IN    AFRICA 

through  snaky  creepers.  The  afternoon  sun  slowly 
sank  toward  the  western  horizon  and — 

The  locomotive  at  this  point  of  the  story 
screeched  loudly.  The  wheels  grated  on  the  track 
and  my  official  friend  leaped  off  the  cow-catcher. 

"Here!"  I  shouted,  "what's  the  finish  of  that 
story?" 

"I'll  tell  you  the  rest  the  next  time  I  see  you," 
he  sang  out,  and  so  I  don't  know  just  how  the  story 
ended. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  ATHI  PLAINS,  FACE  TO  FACE 

WITH  GREAT  HERDS  OF  WILD  GAME.    UP  IN 

A  BALLOON  AT  NAIROBI 

BEFORE  Colonel  Roosevelt  drew  the  eyes  of  the 
world  on  British  East  Africa  Nairobi  was  practi- 
cally unheard  of.  The  British  colonial  office  knew 
where  it  was  and  a  fair  number  of  English  sports- 
men had  visited  it  in  the  last  six  or  eight  years. 
Perhaps  twenty-five  or  thirty  Americans  had  been 
in  Nairobi  on  their  way  to  the  rich  game  fields  that 
lie  in  all  directions  from  the  town,  but  beyond  these 
few  outsiders  the  place  was  unknown.  Now  it  is 
decidedly  on  the  map,  thanks  to  our  gallant  and 
picturesque  Theodore.  It  has  been  mentioned  in 
book  and  magazine  to  a  degree  that  nearly  every- 
body can  tell  in  a  general  way  where  and  what  it  is, 
even  if  he  can  not  pronounce  it. 

Before  coming  to  Nairobi  I  had  read  a  lot  about 
it,  and  yet  when  I  reached  the  place  it  seemed  as 
though  the  descriptions  had  failed  to  prepare  me 
for  what  I  saw.  We  arrived  under  unusual  con- 
ditions. Files  of  native  soldiers  were  lined  up  on  the 
platform  of  the  station  to  welcome  the  new  gover- 
nor, and  the  whole  white  population  of  the  town, 
several  hundred  in  number,  were  massed  in  front 

43 


44 


IN    AFRICA 


of  the  building.  The  roofs  and  trees  were  filled 
with  natives  and  the  broad  open  space  beyond  the 
station  was  fringed  with  pony  carts,  bullock  carts, 
rickshaws,  cameras,  and  some  hotel  'buses.  Several 
thousand  people,  mostly  East  Indians  and  natives, 
were  among  those  present.  Lord  Delamere,  who 
has  adopted  East  Africa  as  his  home,  and  who  owns 


In  the  Back  Yard  of  Nairobi 

a  hundred  thousand  acres  or  so  of  game  preserves, 
read  an  address  of  welcome,  and  Sir  Percy,  in  white 
uniform  and  helmet,  responded  with  a  speech  that 
struck  a  popular  note.  There  were  dozens  of  cam- 
eras snapping  and  the  whole  effect  was  distinctly 
festive  in  appearance. 

The  town  lies  on  the  edge  of  the  Athi  Plains,  a 
broad  sweep  of  sun-bleached   grass   veldt  many 


Dressed  to  Kill 


Courtesy   of  Boyce   Balloonagraph   Expedition 

The   Balloon   Ascension 


The  Norfolk  Hotel,  Nairobi 


GREAT  HERDS  OF  WILD  GAME      45 

miles  in  extent.  From  almost  any  part  of  the  town 
one  may  look  out  on  plains  where  great  herds  of 
wild  game  are  constantly  in  sight.  In  an  hour's 
leisurely  walk  from  the  station  a  man  with  a  gun 
can  get  hartebeest,  zebra,  Grant's  gazelle,  Thomp- 
son's gazelle,  impalla,  and  probably  wildebeest. 
One  can  not  possibly  count  the  number  of  animals 
that  feed  contentedly  within  sight  of  the  town  of 
Nairobi,  and  it  is  difficult  to  think  that  one  is  not 
looking  out  upon  a  collection  of  domesticated  game. 
Sometimes,  as  happened  two  nights  before  we 
reached  Nairobi,  a  lion  will  chase  a  herd  of  zebra 
and  the  latter  in  fright  will  tear  through  the  town, 
destrojdng  gardens  and  fences  and  flowers  in  a  mad 
stampede.  We  met  one  man  who  goes  out  ten  min- 
utes from  town  every  other  day  and  kills  a  kongoni 
(hartebeest)  as  food  for  his  dogs.  If  you  were  dis- 
posed to  do  so  you  could  kill  dozens  every  day  with 
little  effort  and  almost  no  diminution  of  the  visible 
supply. 

Nairobi  is  new  and  unattractive.  There  is  one 
long  main  thoroughfare,  quite  wide  and  fringed 
writh  trees,  along  which  at  wide  intervals  are  the  sub- 
stantial looking  stone  building  of  the  Bank  of 
India,  the  business  houses,  the  hotels,  and  numbers 
of  cheap  corrugated  iron,  one-story  shacks  used  for 
government  purposes.  A  native  barracks  with  low 
iron  houses  and  some  more  little  iron  houses  used 
for  medical  experiments  and  still  some  more  for 
use  as  native  hospitals  are  encountered  as  one  takes 
the  half-mile  ride  from  the  station  to  the  hotel.  A 


46 


IN    AFRICA 


big  square  filled  with  large  trees  marks  the  park, 
and  a  number  of  rather  pretentious  one-story  build- 
ings display  signs  that  tell  you  where  you  may  buy 
almost  anything,  from  a  suit  of  clothes  to  a  maga- 
zine rifle. 

Goanese,  East  Indian,  and  European  shops  are 
scattered  at  intervals  along  this  one  long,  wide 
street.  Rickshaws,  pedestrians,  bullock  carts,  horse- 
men, and  heavily  burdened  porters  are  passing  con- 
stantly back  and  forth,  almost  always  in  the  middle 


The  Main  Street  Is  a  Busy  Place 

of  the  street.  Bicycles,  one  or  two  motorcycles,  and 
a  couple  of  automobiles  are  occasionally  to  be  seen. 
The  aspect  of  the  town  suggests  the  activity  of  a 
new  frontier  place  where  everybody  is  busy.  At 
one  end  the  long  street  loses  itself  in  the  broad  Athi 
Plains,  at  the  other  it  climbs  up  over  some  low  hills 
and  enters  the  residence  district  on  higher  ground. 
Here  the  hills  are  generously  covered  with  a  strag- 
gly growth  of  tall,  ungraceful  trees,  among  which, 


( 


An  Embo  Apollo 


The    Askari    Patrols    the    Camp 


GREAT  HERDS  OF  WILD  GAME      47 

almost  hidden  from  view,  are  the  widely  scattered 
bungalows  of  the  white  population. 

Branching-  off  from  the  main  street  are  side 
streets,  some  of  them  thronged  with  East  Indian 
bazaars,  about  which  may  be  found  all  the  phases 
of  life  of  an  Indian  city.  Still  beyond  and  parallel 
with  the  one  main  street  are  sparsely  settled  streets 
which  look  ragged  with  their  tin  shacks  and  scat- 
tered gardens. 

Nairobi  is  not  a  beautiful  place,  but  it  is  new  and 
busy,  and  the  people  who  live  there  are  working 
wonders  in  changing  a  bad  location  into  what  some 
day  will  be  a  pretty  place.  It  is  over  five  thousand 
feet  high,  healthy,  and  cold  at  night.  Away  off  in 
the  hills  a  mile  or  more  from  town  is  Government 
House,  where  the  governor  lives,  and  near  by  is  the 
club  and  a  new  European  hospital,  looking  out  over 
a  sweep  of  country  that  on  clear  days  includes 
Kilima-Njaro,  over  a  hundred  miles  to  the  south- 
east, and  Mount  Kenia,  a  hundred  miles  northeast. 

You  are  still  in  civilization  in  Nairobi.  Anything 
you  want  you  may  buy  at  some  of  the  shops,  and 
almost  anything  you  may  want  to  eat  or  drink  may 
easily  be  had.  There  are  weekly  newspapers, 
churches,  clubs,  hotels,  and  nearly  all  the  by-prod- 
ucts of  civilization.  One  could  live  in  Nairobi,  only 
a  few  miles  from  the  equator,  wear  summer  clothes 
at  noon  and  winter  clothes  at  night,  keep  well,  and 
not  miss  many  of  the  luxuries  of  life.  The  tele- 
graph puts  you  in  immediate  touch  with  the  whole 
wide  world,  and  on  the  thirtieth  of  September  you 


48  IN    AFRICA 

can  read  the  Chicago  Tribune  of  August  thirty- 
first. 

At  present  the  chief  revenue  of  the  government 
is  derived  from  shooting  parties,  and  the  officials 
are  doing  all  they  can  to  encourage  the  coming  of 
sportsmen.  Each  man  who  comes  to  shoot  must  pay 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for  his  license  as 
well  as  employ  at  least  thirty  natives  for  his  trans- 
port. He  must  buy  supplies,  pay  ten  per  cent, 
import  and  export  tax,  and  in  many  other  ways 
spend  money  which  goes  toward  paying  the 
expenses  of  government.  The  government  also 
is  encouraging  various  agricultural  and  stock  rais- 
ing experiments,  but  these  have  not  yet  passed  the 
experimental  stage.  Almost  anything  may  be 
grown  in  British  East  Africa,  but  before  agricul- 
ture can.be  made  to  pay  the  vast  herds  of  wild  game 
must  either  be  exterminated  or  driven  away.  No 
fence  will  keep  out  a  herd  of  zebra,  and  in  one  rush 
a  field  of  grain  is  ruined  by  these  giant  herds.  Ex- 
periments have  failed  satisfactorily  to  domesticate 
the  zebra,  and  so  he  remains  a  menace  to  agriculture 
and  a  nuisance  in  all  respects  except  as  adding  a 
picturesque  note  to  the  landscape. 

Colonel  Roosevelt,  in  a  recent  speech  in  Nairobi, 
spoke  of  British  East  Africa  as  a  land  of  enormous 
possibilities  and  promise,  but  in  talks  with  many 
men  here  I  found  that  little  money  has  been  made 
by  those  who  have  gone  into  agriculture  in  a  large 
way.  Drought  and  predatory  herds  of  game  have 
introduced  an  element  of  uncertainty  which  has 


GREAT  HERDS  OF  WILD  GAME      49 

made  agriculture,  as  at  present  developed,  unsatis- 
factory. 

Colonel  Roosevelt  has  become  a  popular  idol  in 
East  Africa.  Everywhere  one  meets  Englishmen 
who  express  the  greatest  admiration  for  him.  He 
has  shrewdly  analyzed  conditions  as  they  now  exist 
and  has  picked  out  the  weak  spots  in  the  govern- 
ment. For  many  years  prior  to  the  arrival  of 
Sir  Percy  Girouard  the  country  has  been  admin- 
istered by  weak  executives,  and  its  progress  has 
been  greatly  retarded  thereby.  The  last  governor 
was  kind,  but  inefficient,  and  some  months  ago  was 
sent  to  the  West  Indies,  where  he  is  officially 
buried.  Roosevelt  came,  sized  up  the  situation,  and 
made  a  speech  at  a  big  banquet  in  Nairobi.  Nearly 
two  hundred  white  men  in  evening  clothes  were 
there.  They  came  from  all  parts  of  East  Africa, 
and  listened  with  admiration  to  the  plain  truths 
that  Theodore  Roosevelt  told  them  in  the  manner 
of  a  Dutch  uncle.  Since  then  he  has  owned  the 
country  and  could  be  elected  to  any  office  within 
the  gift  of  the  people.  He  talked  for  over  an  hour, 
and  it  must  have  been  a  great  speech,  if  one  may 
judge  by  the  enthusiastic  comments  I  have  heard 
about  it.  When  an  Englishman  gets  enthusiastic 
about  a  speech  by  an  American  it  must  be  a  pretty 
good  speech. 

Newland  and  Tarlton  is  the  firm  that  outfits  most 
shooting  parties  that  start  out  from  Nairobi.  They 
do  all  the  preliminary  work  and  relieve  you  of  most 
of  the  worry.  If  you  wish  them  to  do  so,  they  will 


50  IN    AFRICA 

get  your  complete  outfit,  so  you  need  not  bring 
anything  with  you  but  a  suitcase.  They  will  get 
your  guns,  your  tents,  your  food  supplies,  your 
mules,  your  head-man,  your  cook,  your  gunbearers, 
your  askaris  (native  soldiers),  your  interpreter, 
your  ammunition,  and  your  porters.  They  will 
have  the  whole  outfit  ready  for  you  by  the  time  you 
arrive  in  Nairobi.  When  you  arrive  in  British  East 
Africa,  a-shooting  bent,  you  will  hear  of  Newland 
and  Tarlton  so  often  that  you  will  think  they  own 
the  country. 

Mr.  Newland  met  us  in  Mombasa,  and  through 
his  agents  sent  all  of  our  London  equipment  of 
tents  and  guns  and  ammunition  and  food  up  to 
Nairobi.  When  we  arrived  in  Nairobi  he  had  our 
porters  ready,  together  with  tent  boys,  gunbearers, 
and  all  the  other  members  of  our  safari^  and  in 
three  days  we  were  ready  to  march.  The  firm  has 
systematized  methods  so  much  that  it  is  simple  for 
them  to  do  what  would  be  matters  of  endless  worry 
to  the  stranger.  In  course  of  time  you  pay  the 
price,  and  in  our  case  it  seemed  reasonable,  when 
one  considers  the  work  and  worry  involved.  Most 
English  sportsmen  come  out  in  October  and  No- 
vember, after  which  time  the  shooting  is  at  its 
height.  Two  years  ago  there  were  sixty  safaris, 
or  shooting  expeditions,  sent  out  from  Nairobi. 
When  we  left,  late  in  September,  there  were  about 
thirty. 

Each  party  must  have  from  thirty  to  a  couple  of 
hundred  camp  attendants,  depending  upon  the 


The   Great   White   Way    in    Nairobi 


The  Busiest  Place  in  Nairobi 


Umbrella    Acacias 


The  New  Governor  Looks  Something  Like  Roosevelt- 


52  IN    AFRICA 

number  of  white  men  in  the  party.  Each  white 
man,  requires,  roughly,  thirty  natives  to  take  care 
of  him.  In  our  party  of  four  white  people  we  had 
one  hundred  and  eighteen.  One  would  presume  that 
the  game  would  speedily  be  exterminated,  yet  it  is 
said  that  the  game  is  constantly  increasing.  After 
one  day's  ride  on  the  railway  it  would  be  hard  to 
conceive  of  game  being  more  plentiful  than  it  was 
while  we  were  there.  Mr.  Roosevelt  carried  nearly 
three  hundred  men  with  him,  collected  a  great 
quantity  of  game,  and  necessarily  spent  a  great 
deal  of  money.  It  is  said  that  the  expenses  of  his 
expedition  approached  ten  thousand  dollars  a 
month,  but  the  chances  are  that  this  figure  is  much 
more  than  the  actual  figure. 

At  the  time  of  our  arrival  there  was  a  shortage 
in  the  porter  supply,  and  we  were  obliged  to  take 
out  men  from  a  number  of  different  tribes.  Swahili 
porters  are  considered  the  best,  but  there  are  not 
enough  to  go  round,  so  we  had  to  take  Swahilis, 
Bagandas,  Kikuyus,  Kavirondos,  Lumbwas,  Min- 
yamwezis,  and  a  lot  more  of  assorted  races.  Each 
porter  carries  sixty  pounds  on  his  head,  and  when 
the  whole  outfit  is  on  the  trail  it  looks  like  a  pro- 
cession of  much  importance. 

The  Norfolk  Hotel  is  the  chief  rendezvous  of 
Nairobi.  In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  nearly  all 
the  white  men  on  hunting  bent  show  up  at  the  hotel 
and  patronize  the  bar.  They  come  in  wonderful 
hunting  regalia  and  in  all  the  wonderful  splendor 
of  the  Britisher  when  he  is  afield.  There  is  nearly 


GREAT  HERDS  OF  WILD  GAME 


53 


always  a  great  coming  and  going  of  men  riding  up, 
and  of  rickshaws  arriving  and  departing.  Usually 
several  tired  sportsmen  are  stretched  out  on  the  ve- 
randa of  the  long  one-storied  building,  reading  the 
ancient  London  papers  that  are  lying  about.  Pro- 
fessional guides,  arrayed  in  picturesque  Buffalo 


At  the  Norfolk  Hotel  Bar 

Bill  outfits,  with  spurs  and  hunting-knives  and 
slouch  hats,  are  among  those  present,  and  amateur 
sportsmen  in  crisp  khaki  and  sun  helmets  and  new 
puttees  swagger  back  and  forth  to  the  bar.  There 
is  no  denying  the  fact  that  there  is  considerable 
drinking  in  Nairobi.  There  was  as  much  before  we 
got  there  as  there  was  after  we  got  there,  however. 


54  IN    AFRICA 

After  the  arrival  of  the  European  steamer  at  Mom- 
basa business  is  brisk  for  several  days  as  the  dif- 
ferent parties  sally  forth  for  the  wilds. 

On  our  ship  there  were  four  different  parties.  A 
young  American  from  Boston,  who  has  been  spend- 
ing several  years  doing  archaeological  work  in 
Crete,  accompanied  by  a  young  English  cavalry 
officer,  were  starting  out  for  a  six-weeks'  shoot  south 
of  the  railway  and  near  Victoria  Nyanza. 

Two  professional  ivory  hunters  were  starting  for 
German  East  Africa  by  way  of  the  lake.  Mr. 
Boyce  and  his  African  balloonograph  party  of 
seven  white  men  were  preparing  for  the  photo- 
graphing expedition  in  the  Sotik,  and  our  party  of 
four  was  making  final  preparations  for  our  march. 
Consequently  there  was  much  hurrying  about,  and 
Newland  and  Tarlton's  warehouse  was  the  center 
of  throngs  of  waiting  porters  and  the  scene  of  in- 
tense activity  as  each  party  sorted  and  assembled  its 
mountains  of  supplies. 

Seager  and  Wormald  got  off  first,  going  by 
train  to  Kijabe,  where  they  were  to  begin  their  ten 
days'  march  in  the  Sotik.  Here  they  were  to  try 
their  luck  for  two  or  three  weeks  and  then  march 
back,  preparatory  to  starting  home. 

The  professional  ivory  hunters  were  slow  in 
starting.  There  was  delay  in  getting  mules.  One 
of  them  had  shot  three  hundred  elephants  in  the 
Belgian  Congo  during  the  last  four  years,  and  it 
was  suspected  he  had  been  poaching.  The  other  had 
been  caught  by  the  Belgian  authorities  on  his  last 


GREAT    HERDS    OF    WILD    GAME  55 

hip,  lost  all  his  ivory  and  guns  by  confiscation,  but 
was  ready  to  make  another  try.  The  ivory  game  is 
a  rich  one  and  there  are  always  venturesome  men 
who  are  willing  to  take  chances  with  the  law  in 
getting  the  prizes. 

The  Boyce  party  with  its  two  balloons  and  its 
great  number  of  box  kites  and  its  moving  picture 
equipment  and  its  twenty-nine  cameras  and  its  vast 
equipment  was  slow  in  starting,  but  it  expected  to 
get  away  on  September  twenty-fourth,  the  day 
after  we  left.  They  planned  to  fill  their  balloon  in 
Nairobi  and  tow  it  at  the  end  of  a  special  train  as 
far  as  Kijabe,  where  they  were  to  strike  inland  from 
the  railway.  They  were  encamped  on  a  hill  over- 
looking the  city,  with  their  two  hundred  and  thirty 
porters  ready  for  the  field  and  their  balloon  ready 
to  make  the  first  ascension  ever  attempted  in  East 
Africa. 

Throngs  of  natives  squatted  about,  watching  the 
final  preparations,  and  doubtless  wondered  what 
the  strange,  swaying  object  was.  On  the  evening 
of  the  twenty-second  the  party  gave  a  moving  pic- 
ture show  at  one  of  the  clubs  for  the  benefit  of  St. 
Andrew's  church.  A  great  crowd  of  fashionably 
dressed  people  turned  out  and  saw  the  motion  pic- 
ture records  of  events  which  they  had  seen  in  life 
only  a  couple  of  days  before.  There  were  moving 
pictures  of  the  arrival  of  the  governor's  special 
train,  his  march  through  the  city,  and  many  other 
events  that  were  fresh  in  the  minds  of  the  audience. 
There  were  also  motion  pictures  taken  on  the  ship 


56  IN    AFRICA 

that  brought  us  down  from  Naples  to  Mombasa, 
and  it  was  most  interesting  to  see  our  fellow  passen- 
gers and  friends  reproduced  before  us  in  their  vari- 
ous athletic  activities  while  on  shipboard.  Mr.  Boyce 
gave  an  afternoon  show  for  children,  an  evening 
show  for  grown-ups,  and  was  to  give  another  for 
the  natives  the  following  night.  The  charities  of 
Nairobi  were  much  richer  because  of  Mr.  Boyce 
and  his  African  Balloonograph  Expedition. 

While  in  Nairobi  we  visited  the  little  station 
where  experiments  are  being  made  in  the  "sleeping 
sickness."  An  intelligent  young  English  doctor  is 
conducting  the  investigations  and  great  hopes  are 
entertained  of  much  new  information  about  that 
most  mysterious  ailment  that  has  swept  whole  colo- 
nies of  blacks  away  in  the  last  few  years. 

In  many  little  bottles  were  specimens  of  the 
deadly  tsetse  fly  that  causes  all  the  infection.  And 
the  most  deadly  of  all  was  the  small  one  whose  dis- 
tinguishing characteristic  was  its  wings,  which 
crossed  over  its  back.  These  we  were  told  to  look 
out  for  and  to  avoid  them,  if  possible.  They  occur 
only  in  certain  districts  and  live  in  the  deep  shade, 
near  water.  They  also  are  day-biting  insects,  who 
do  their  biting  only  between  eleven  o'clock  in  the 
morning  and  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

In  the  station  there  were  a  number  of  monkeys, 
upon  which  the  fly  was  being  tried.  They  were  in 
various  stages  of  the  disease,  but  it  seemed  im- 
possible to  tell  whether  their  illness  was  due  to  the 
sleeping  sickness  germ  or  was  due  to  tick  fever, 


GREAT  HERDS  OF  WILD  GAME      57 

a  common  malady  among  monkeys.  In  one  of  the 
rooms  of  the  laboratory  there  were  natives  holding 
little  cages  of  tsetse  flies  against  the  monkeys, 
which  were  pinioned  to  the  floor  by  the  natives.  The 
screened  cages  were  held  close  to  the  stomach  of 
the  helpless  monkey,  and  little  apertures  in  the 
screen  permitted  the  fly  to  settle  upon  and  bite  the 
animal. 

There  are  certain  wide  belts  of  land  in  Africa 
called  the  "tsetse  fly  belts,"  where  horses,  mules  and 
cattle  can  not  live.  These  districts  have  been  known 
for  a  number  of  years,  long  before  the  sleeping 
sickness  became  known.  In  the  case  of  animals,  the 
danger  could  be  minimized  by  keeping  the  animals 
out  of  those  belts,  but  in  the  case  of  humans  the 
same  can  not  be  done.  One  infected  native  from  a 
sleeping  sickness  district  can  carry  the  disease  from 
one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other,  and  when  once 
it  breaks  out  the  newly  infected  district  is  doomed. 
Consequently  the  British  authorities  are  greatly 
alarmed,  for  by  means  of  this  deadly  fly  the  whole 
population  of  East  Africa  might  be  wiped  out  if 
no  remedy  is  discovered.  It  has  not  yet  been  abso- 
lutely proven  that  East  Africa  is  a  "white  man's 
country,"  and  in  the  end  it  may  be  necessary  for  him 
to  give  up  hope  of  making  it  more  than  a  place  of 
temporary  residence  and  exploration. 

We  were  also  shown  some  ticks.  They  are  the 
pests  of  Africa.  They  exist  nearly  every  place  and 
carry  a  particularly  malicious  germ  that  gives  one 
"tick  fever."  It  is  not  a  deadly  fever,  but  it  is  recur- 


58  IN    AFRICA 

rent  and  weakening.  There  are  all  kinds  of  ticks, 
from  little  red  ones  no  bigger  than  a  grain  of  pep- 
per to  big  fat  ones  the  size  of  a  finger-nail,  that  are 
exactly  the  color  of  the  ground.  They  seem  to 
have  immortal  life,  for  they  can  exist  for  a  long 
time  without  food.  Doctor  Ward  told  us  of  some 
that  he  had  put  in  a  box,  where  they  lived  four  years 
without  food  or  water.  He  also  told  us  of  one  that 
was  sent  to  the  British  museum,  put  on  a  card  with 
a  pin  through  it,  and  lived  over  two  years  in  this 
condition.  It  is  assumed,  however,  that  it  sustained 
fatal  injuries,  because  after  a  two  years'  fight 
against  its  wound  it  finally  succumbed. 

We  were  told  to  avoid  old  camping  grounds 
while  on  safari,,  because  these  spots  were  usually 
much  infested  with  ticks  waiting  for  new  camping 
parties.  Wild  game  is  always  covered  with  ticks 
and  carries  them  all  over  the  land.  As  you  walk 
through  the  grass  in  the  game  country  the  ticks 
cling  to  your  clothes  and  immediately  seek  for  an 
opening  where  they  may  establish  closer  relations 
with  you.  Some  animals,  like  the  rhino  and  the 
eland,  have  tick  birds  that  sit  upon  their  backs  and 
eat  the  ticks.  The  egrets  police  the  eland  and  cap- 
ture all  predatory  ticks,  while  the  rhino  usually  has 
half  a  dozen  little  tick  birds  sitting  upon  him. 

However,  we  were  starting  out  in  a  day  or  so,  and 
in  a  few  days  expected  to  learn  a  lot  more  about 
ticks  than  we  then  knew. 

It  is  supposed  to  require  a  certain  amount  of 
nerve  to  go  lion  shooting.  It  is  also  supposed  to 


GREAT  HERDS  OF  WILD  GAME      59 

require  an  additional  amount  to  face  an  angry 
rhino  or  to  attempt  to  get  African  buffalo.  The 
last-named  creature  is  a  vindictive,  crafty  beast 
that  is  feared  by  old  African  hunters  more  than 
they  fear  any  other  animal.  In  consequence  of 
these  dangers  we  decided  that  it  might  be  well  to 
give  our  nerves  a  thorough  test  before  going  out 
with  them.  If  they  were  not  in  good  condition  it 
would  be  well  to  know  of  it  before  rather  than 
after  going  up  against  a  strange  and  hostile  lion. 

That  is  why  we  went  up  in  the  balloon  in  Xairobi. 
The  balloon  was  one  of  the  two  Boyce  balloons  and 
had  never  been  tried.  It  was  small,  of  twelve  thou- 
sand cubic  feet  capacity,  as  compared  with  the 
seventy  thousand  foot  balloons  that  do  the  racing. 
It  was  also  being  tried  at  an  altitude  of  over 
five  thousand  feet  under  uncertain  wind  and 
heat  conditions,  and  so  the  element  of  uncer- 
tainty was  aggravated.  We  felt  that  if  we  could 
go  up  in  a  new  balloon  of  a  small  size  it  might 
demonstrate  whether  we  should  later  go  up  a  tree 
or  stand  pat  against  a  charging  menagerie. 

There  was  a  great  crowd  gathered  on  the  hill 
where  this  balloon  was  being  inflated.  Since  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning  the  gas  had  been  generating 
in  the  wooden  tanks,  and  from  these  was  being  con- 
ducted by  a  cloth  tube  to  the  mouth  of  the  balloon. 
The  natives  squatted  wonderingly  about  in  a  circle, 
mystified  and  excited.  At  three  o'clock  the  balloon 
was  over  half  filled  and  was  swaying  savagely  at  its 
anchorage.  A  strong  wind  was  blowing,  and  Mr. 


60  IN    AFRICA 

Lawrence,  who  had  charge  of  the  ascension,  was  ap- 
prehensive. He  feared  to  fill  the  balloon  to  its  ca- 
pacity lest  the  expansion  of  the  gas  due  to  the  hot 
sun  should  explode  it. 

At  half  past  three  the  basket  was  attached  and  it 
looked  small — about  the  size  of  a  large  bushel  bas- 
ket, three  feet  in  diameter  and  three  feet  deep.  The 
balloon,  heavily  laden  with  sand-bags,  was  lightened 
until  it  could  almost  rise,  and  in  this  condition  was 
led  across  to  an  open  spot  sufficiently  far  from  the 
nearest  trees.  The  crowd  thronged  up  pop-eyed 
and  quivering  with  excitement.  Then  there  was  a 
long  wait  until  the  wind  had  died  down  a  bit,  which 
it  did  after  a  while.  The  eventful  moment  had  ar- 
rived, and  Mr.  Stephenson,  of  our  party,  climbed 
into  the  basket.  He  is  only  six  feet  five  inches  in 
height  and  weighs  only  two  hundred  and  thirty 
pounds.  He  had  on  a  pair  of  heavy  hunting  boots, 
for  we  were  leaving  for  the  hunting  grounds  im- 
mediately after  the  ascension.  One  by  one  the 
restraining  bags  of  sand  were  taken  off,  but  still 
the  balloon  sat  on  the  ground  without  any  inclina- 
tion to  do  otherwise. 

A  wave  of  disappointment  spread  over  the 
crowd.  Suddenly  a  brilliant  inspiration  struck  the 
gallant  aeronaut.  He  took  off  one  of  his  heavy 
hunting  boots  and  cast  it  overboard.  The  balloon 
arose  a  foot  or  two  and  then  sagged  back  to  earth. 
Then  the  other  boot  was  cast  over  and  the  balloon 
rose  several  feet,  swaying  and  whipping  savagely 
over  the  heads  of  the  crowd.  The  wind  was  now 


GREAT  HERDS  OF  WILD  GAME 


61 


blowing  pretty  hard,  and  when  the  wire  was  run  out 
the  balloon  started  almost  horizontally  for  the  near- 
est tree,  rising  slightly. 

The  wire  was  stopped  at  once  and  the  balloon 
thus  suddenly  restrained,  changed  its  horizontal 
course  to  an  upward  one.  At  about  sixty  feet  up 


Throwing  Out  Ballast 

the  wire  was  again  paid  out  and  the  balloon  made 
a  dash  for  the  trees  again.  Once  more  the  balloon 
was  stopped  and  rose  to  a  height  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet,  where  it  swayed  about  with  the  pleas- 
ant face  of  Stephenson  looking  over  the  edge  of 
the  basket.  He  had  to  sit  down,  as  there  was  not 
room  to  stand.  The  ascension  seemed  a  failure  with 


62  IN    AFRICA 

the  handicap  of  two  hundred  and  thirty  pounds, 
and  so  the  balloon  was  reeled  down  to  the  earth 
again.  It  was  not  a  great  ascension,  but  the  ama- 
teur aeronaut  had  gained  the  distinction  of  mak- 
ing the  first  balloon  ascension  ever  made  in  East 
Africa.  He  would  have  gone  higher  if  his  shoes 
had  been  heavier. 

To  me  fell  the  next  chance,  and  I  knew  that  my 
one  hundred  and  forty  pounds  would  not  seriously 
handicap  the  balloon.  Once  more  there  was  a  long 
wait  until  the  wind  died  down,  and  all  of  a  sudden 
the  cylinder  of  wire  was  released  and  the  ground 
sank  hundreds  of  feet  below  me.  The  horizon  wid- 
ened and  the  whole  vast  plain  of  the  African  high- 
lands stretched  out  with  an  ever-widening  horizon. 
New  mountain  peaks  rose  far  away  and  native  vil- 
lages with  ant-like  people  moving  about  appeared 
in  unexpected  quarters.  Away  below,  the  crowd  of 
people  looked  like  little  insects  as  they  gazed  up  at 
the  balloon.  Grasping  the  ropes  that  led  from  the 
basket  to  the  balloon,  I  stood  and  waved  at  them 
and  could  hear  the  shouts  come  up  from  a  thousand 
feet  below. 

I  was  not  frightened.  There  was  no  sensation  of 
motion  as  long  as  the  balloon  was  ascending.  Aside 
from  looking  at  the  wonderful  scene  that  opened 
out  before  me,  I  believe  I  thought  chiefly  about 
where  I  should  land  in  case  the  wire  broke.  The 
balloon  would  undoubtedly  go  many  miles  before 
descending,  and  five  miles  in  any  direction  would 
lead  me  into  a  primitive  jungle  or  veldt.  A  hun- 


GREAT  HERDS  OF  WILD  GAME      63 

dred  miles  would  take  me  into  almost  unexplored 
districts  in  some  directions,  where  the  natives  would 
greet  me  as  some  supernatural  being.  Perhaps  I 
might  be  greeted  as  a  god  and — just  in  the  midst  of 
these  reflections  they  began  to  reel  in  the  balloon. 
The  sudden  stopping  was  not  pleasant,  for  then 
the  balloon  began  to  sway.  Slowly  the  earth  came 
nearer  and  the  wind  howled  through  the  rigging 
and  the  partly  filled  bag  flapped  and  thundered. 
The  wire,  about  as  thick  as  a  piano  wire,  looked 
frail,  but  at  last  after  a  slow  and  tedious  descent  a 
safe  landing  wras  made  amid  the  wondering  natives. 
Cameras  clicked  and  the  moving  picture  machine 
worked  busily  as  the  balloon  was  secured  to  earth 
again. 

To  Mrs.  Akeley  of  our  party  fell  the  next  chance 
to  go  up.  As  she  was  lifted  into  the  basket  the 
feminine  population  of  Nairobi  gazed  in  wonder 
that  a  woman  should  dare  venture  up  in  a  balloon. 
The  cameras  clicked  some  more,  somebody  shook 
hands  with  her,  and  it  began  to  look  quite  like  a 
leave-taking.  Just  when  all  was  ready  the  wind 
sprang  up  savagely  and  an  ascension  seemed  inex- 
pedient. There  was  a  long  wait  and  still  the  wind 
continued  in  gusts.  At  last  it  was  determined  that 
we  might  as  well  settle  down  for  better  conditions, 
so  Mrs.  Akeley  was  lifted  out  and  we  waited  im- 
patiently for  the  wind  to  die  down. 

At  last  it  died  down,  all  was  hurriedly  prepared 
for  the  ascension,  and  Mrs.  Akeley  took  her  place 
again  in  the  basket.  In  an  instant  the  balloon  shot 


64  IN    AFRICA 

up  a  couple  of  hundred  feet  and  was  held  there  for 
a  moment.  The  wind  once  more  sprang  up  and  the 
balloon  was  drawn  down  amid  the  cheers  of  the 
crowd.  She  had  been  the  first  woman  to  make  an 
ascension  in  British  East  Africa,  if  not  in  all  of 
Africa. 

We  then  mounted  our  mules  and  rode  out  on  the 
open  plains.  Several  hours  before,  our  entire  camp 
had  moved  and  we  were  to  join  them  at  a  prear- 
ranged spot  out  on  the  Athi  Plains.  All  our  pre- 
liminary worries  were  over  and  at  last  we  were 
actually  started.  At  six  o'clock,  far  across  the 
country  we  saw  the  gleaming  lights  of  our  camp- 
fires  and  the  green  tents  that  were  to  be  our  homes 
for  many  weeks  to  come.  Enormous  herds  of  harte- 
beest  and  wildebeest  were  on  each  side,  and  count- 
less zebras.  That  night  two  of  us  heard  the  first 
bark  of  the  zebra,  and  we  thought  it  must  be  the 
bark  of  distant  dogs.  It  was  one  of  our  first  sur- 
prises to  learn  that  zebras  bark  instead  of  neigh. 


CHAPTER  V 

INTO  THE  HEART  OF  THE  BIG  GAME  COUNTRY  WITH 
A  RETINUE  OF  MORE  THAN  ONE  HUNDRED  NA- 
TIVES.   A  SAFARI  AND  WHAT  IT  IS 

WHEN  I  first  expressed  my  intention  of  going  to 
East  Africa  to  shoot  big  game  some  of  my  friends 
remarked,  in  surprise:  "Why,  I  didn't  know  that 
you  were  so  bloodthirsty!"  They  seemed  to  think 
that  the  primary  object  of  such  an  expedition  was 
to  slay  animals,  none  of  which  had  done  anything 
to  me,  and  that  to  wish  to  embark  in  any  such 
project  was  an  evidence  of  bloodthirstiness.  I  tried 
to  explain  that  I  had  no  particular  grudge  against 
any  of  the  African  fauna,  and  that  the  thing  I 
chiefly  desired  to  do  was  to  get  out  in  the  open,  far 
from  the  picture  post-card,  and  enjoy  experiences 
which  could  not  help  being  wonderful  and  strange 
and  perhaps  exciting. 

The  shooting  of  animals  merely  for  the  sake 
of  killing  them  is,  of  course,  not  an  elevating 
sport,  but  the  by-products  of  big  game  hunting  in 
Africa  are  among  the  most  delightful  and  inspir- 
ing of  all  experiences.  For  weeks  or  months  you 
live  a  nomadic  tent  life  amid  surroundings  so  dif- 
ferent from  what  you  are  accustomed  to  that  one  is 
both  mentally  and  physically  rejuvenated.  You  are 

65 


66  IN    AFRICA 

among  strange  and  savage  people,  in  strange  and 
savage  lands,  and  always  threatened  by  strange  and 
savage  animals.  The  life  is  new  and  the  scenery 
new.  There  is  adventure  and  novelty  in  every  day 
of  such  a  life,  and  it  is  that  phase  of  it  that  has 
the  most  insistent  appeal.  It  is  the  call  of  the  wild 
to  which  the  pre- Adamite  monkey  in  our  nature 
responds. 

Even  if  one  never  used  his  rifle  one  would  still 
enjoy  life  on  safari.  Safari  is  an  Arabic  word 
meaning  expedition  as  it  is  understood  in  that  coun- 
try. If  you  go  on  any  sort  of  a  trip  you  are  on 
safari.  It  need  not  be  a  shooting  trip. 

Of  course  everybody  who  has  read  the  magazines 
of  the  last  year  has  been  more  or  less  familiarized 
with  African  hunting.  He  has  read  of  the  amount 
of  game  that  the  authors  have  killed  and  of  the  nar- 
row escapes  that  they  have  had. 

He  also  has  read  about  expeditions  into  districts 
with  strange  names,  but  naturally  these  names  have 
meant  nothing  to  him.  I  know  that  I  read  reams 
of  African  stuff  about  big  game  shooting  and 
about  safari,  yet  in  spite  of  all  that,  I  remained 
in  the  dark  as  to  many  details  of  such  a  life.  I 
wanted  to  know  what  kind  of  money  or  trade  stuff 
the  hunter  carried ;  what  sort  of  things  he  had  to  eat 
each  day ;  what  he  wore,  and  how  he  got  from  place 
to  place.  Most  writers  have  a  way  of  saying:  "We 
equipped  our  safari  in  Nairobi  and  made  seven 
marches  to  such  and  such  a  place,  where  we  ran  into 
some  excellent  eland."  All  the  important  small  de- 


A    SAFARI    AND    WHAT    IT    IS  67 

tails  are  thus  left  out,  and  the  reader  remains  in 
ignorance  of  what  the  tent  boy  does,  who  skins  the 
game  that  is  killed,  and  what  sort  of  a  cook  stove 
they  use. 

The  purpose  of  this  chapter  is  to  tell  something 
about  the  little  things  that  happen  on  safari.  First 
of  all,  at  the  risk  of  repeating  what  has  been  writ- 
ten so  often  before,  I  will  say  a  few  words  about 
the  personnel  of  a  safari,  such  as  the  one  I  was  with. 

There  were  four  white  people  in  our  expedition — 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Akeley,  Mr.  Stephenson,  and  myself. 
Mr.  Akeley 's  chief  object  was  to  get  a  group  of  five 
elephants  for  the  American  Museum  of  Natural 
History  and  incidentally  secure  photographic  and 
moving  picture  records  of  animal  life.  Eoth  he 
and  Mrs.  Akeley  had  been  in  Africa  before  and 
knew  the  country  as  thoroughly  perhaps  as  any  who 
has  ever  been  there.  Mr.  Akeley  undoubtedly  is  the 
foremost  taxidermist  of  the  world,  and  his  work  is 
famous  wherever  African  animal  life  has  been 
studied.  Mr.  Stephenson  went  for  the  experience 
in  African  shooting,  and  I  for  that  experience  and 
any  other  sort  that  might  turn  up. 

To  supply  an  expedition  of  four  white  people, 
we  had  one  head-man,  whose  duty  it  was  to  run  the 
safari — that  is,  to  get  us  where  we  wanted  to  go. 
The  success  and  pleasure  of  the  safari  depends  al- 
most wholly  upon  the  head-man.  If  he  is  weak,  the 
discipline  of  the  camp  will  disappear  and  all  sorts 
of  annoyances  will  steadily  increase.  If  he  is 
strong,  everything  will  run  smoothly. 


68  IN    AFRICA 

Our  head-man  was  a  young  Somali,  named  Abdi. 
For  several  years  he  was  with  Mr.  McMillan  of 
Juja  farm,  and  he  spoke  English  well  and  knew 
the  requirements  of  white  men.  He  was  strikingly 
handsome,  efficient,  and  ruled  the  native  porters 


The  Cook— A  Toto — The  Head-Man 

firmly  and  kindly.  Each  day  we  patted  ourselves  on 
the  back  because  of  Abdi. 

Second  in  the  list  came  our  four  gunbearers,  all 
Somalis,  they  being  considered  the  best  gunbearers. 
The  duty  of  the  gunbearer  is  always  to  be  with  you 
when  you  are  hunting,  to  carry  your  gun,  and  to 
have  it  in  your  hand  the  instant  it  is  needed.  Then 


It  Is  Tropical  Along  the  Athi  River 


Hippos  in  the  Tana  River 


Our  Camp  Down  on  the  Tana 


A    SAFARI    AND    WHAT    IT    IS  69 

there  were  four  second  gunbearers,  who  came  along 
just  behind  the  first  gunbearers.  The  second  men 
were,  in  our  case,  selected  from  the  native  porters, 
and  were  subject  to  the  orders  of  the  first  gunbearer. 
The  first  gunbearer  carries  your  field-glasses  and 
your  light,  long-range  rifle;  the  second  gunbearer 
carries  your  camera,  your  water  bottle,  and  your 
heavy  cordite  double-barreled  rifle.  In  close  quar- 
ters, as  in  a  lion  fight,  the  first  gunbearer  crouches 
at  your  elbow,  hands  the  big  rifle  to  you;  you  fire, 
and  he  immediately  takes  the  rifle  and  places  in 
your  hands  the  other  rifle,  ready  for  firing.  By  the 
time  you  have  fired  this  one  the  first  is  again  ready, 
and  in  this  way  you  always  have  a  loaded  rifle  ready 
for  use.  There  frequently  is  no  time  for  turning 
around,  and  so  the  first  gunbearer  is  at  your  elbow 
with  the  barrel  of  one  rifle  pressed  against  your 
right  leg  that  you  may  know  that  he  is  there. 
Sometimes  they  run  away,  but  the  Somali  gunbear- 
ers are  the  most  fearless  and  trustworthy,  and  sel- 
dom desert  in  time  of  need.  The  gunbearer  has 
instructions  never  to  fire  unless  his  master  is  dis- 
armed and  down  before  the  charge  of  a  beast. 
When  an  animal  is  killed  the  gunbearers  skin  it 
and  care  for  the  trophy.  Usually  when  on  a  shoot- 
ing jaunt  of  several  hours  from  camp  several  por- 
ters go  along  to  carry  home  the  game. 

Third  in  the  social  scale  came  the  askaris — 
armed  natives  in  uniforms  who  guard  the  camp  at 
night.  One  or  more  patrol  the  camp  all  night  long, 
keep  up  the  fires  and  scare  away  any  marauding 


70 


IN    AFRICA 


lion  or  hyena  that  may  approach  the  camp.  We 
had  four  askaris,  one  of  whom  was  the  noisiest  man 
I  have  ever  heard.  He  reminded  me  of  a  congress- 
man when  congress  is  not  in  session. 

Then  came  the  cook,  who  is  always  quite  an  im- 
portant member  of  the  community,  because  much  of 
the  pleasure  of  the  safari  depends  upon  him.  Our 
cook  was  one  that  the  Akeleys  had  on  their  former 


Gunbearer — Askari — Tent  Boy — Porter 

trip.  His  name  was  Abdullah,  he  had  a  jovial  face 
and  a  beaming  smile,  cooked  well,  and  was  funny  to 
look  at.  He  wore  a  slouch  hat  with  a  red  band 
around  it,  a  khaki  suit  and  heavy  shoes.  When  on 
the  march  he  carried  his  shoes  and  when  in  camp  he 
wore  a  blue  jersey  and  a  polka-dotted  apron  which 
took  the  place  of  trousers.  He  was  good-natured, 
which  atoned  somewhat  for  his  slowness.  The  sug- 
gestion may  be  made  that  he  might  not  have  been 


A    SAFARI    AND    WHAT    IT    IS  71 

slow,  but  that  our  appetites  might  have  been  so  fast 
that  he  seemed  slow. 

The  cook  usually  picks  out  a  likely  porter  to  help 
him,  or  a  toto,  which  means  "little  boy"  in  Swa- 
hili.  There  are  always  a  lot  of  boys  who  go  along, 
unofficially,  just  for  the  fun  and  the  food  of  the 
trip.  They  are  not  hired,  but  go  as  stowaways, 
and  for  the  first  few  days  out  remain  much  in  the 
background.  Gradually  they  appear  more  and 
more  until  all  chance  of  their  being  sent  back  has 
disappeared,  and  then  they  become  established 
members  of  the  party.  They  carry  small  loads  and 
help  brighten  up  the  camp.  Then  there  are  the  tent 
boys,  personal  servants  of  the  white  people.  Each 
white  person  has  his  tent  boy,  who  takes  care  of  his 
tent,  his  bedding,  his  bath,  his  clothes,  and  all  his 
personal  effects.  A  good  tent  boy  is  a  great  fea- 
ture on  safari,  for  he  relieves  his  master  of  all  the 
little  worries  of  life.  The  tent  boys  always  wait 
on  the  table  and  do  the  family  washing.  They 
also  see  that  the  drinking  water  is  boiled  and  fil- 
tered and  that  the  water  bottles  are  filled  each  even- 
ing. 

Last  of  all  come  the  porters,  of  whom  we  had 
eighty.  There  were  Swahilis,  Wakambas,  Kikuyus, 
Masai,  Minyamwezis,  Lumbwas,  Bagandas,  Kavi- 
rondos,  and  doubtless  members  of  various  other 
tribes.  It  was  their  duty  to  carry  the  camp  from 
place  to  place,  each  porter  carrying  sixty  pounds 
on  his  head.  When  they  arrive  at  the  spot  selected 
for  camp  they  put  up  the  tents,  get  in  firewood,  and 


72  IN    AFRICA 

carry  in  what  game  may  later  be  shot  by  the  white 
men. 

Then,  lowest  in  the  social  scale,  are  the  saises,  or 
grooms.  There  is  one  for  each  mule  or  horse,  of 
which  we  had  four.  The  sais  is  always  at  hand  to 
hold  the  mount  and  is  supposed  to  take  care  of  it 
after  hours. 

The  foregoing  members  of  our  personally  con- 
ducted party,  therefore,  included : 

Head-man 1    Tent  Boys 4 

Gunbearers 4    Porters 80 

Askaris 4    Saises 4 

Cook 1    "Totos" 20 

The  head-man  and  the  four  gunbearers  get  sev- 
enty-five rupees  a  month,  the  askaris  fifteen  rupees, 
the  cook  forty  rupees,  the  tent  boys  twenty  and 
twenty-five  rupees,  depending  upon  experience, 
the  porters  ten  rupees,  and  the  saises  twelve  rupees. 
The  totos  get  nothing  except  food  and  lodging,  as 
well  as  experience,  which  may  be  valuable  when 
they  grow  up  to  be  porters  at  ten  rupees  a  month. 
A  rupee  is  about  thirty-three  cents  American. 
We  were  also  required  by  law  to  provide  a  water 
bottle,  blanket,  and  sweater  for  each  porter,  as  well 
as  uniforms  and  water  bottles,  shoes  and  blankets 
for  all  the  other  members  of  the  party.  We  also 
supplied  twenty  tents  for  them. 

For  the  first  day  or  two  on  safari  there  may  be 
little  hitches  and  delays,  but  after  a  short  time  the 
work  is  reduced  to  a  beautiful  system,  and  camp  is 
broken  or  pitched  in  a  remarkably  short  time.  The 


At  the  Edge  of  the  Athi  River 


The  Totos   Are   Not  Fastidious 


A    SAFARI    AND    WHAT    IT    IS  73 

porters  get  into  the  habit  of  carrying  a  certain  load 
and  so  there  is  usually  little  confusion  in  distribut- 
ing the  packs. 

Life  and  activity  begin  early  in  camp.  You  go 
to  bed  early  and  before  dawn  you  are  awakened  by 
the  singing  of  countless  birds  of  many  kinds.  The 
air  is  fresh  and  cool,  and  you  draw  your  woolen 
blankets  a  little  closer  around  you.  The  tent  is 
closed,  but  through  the  little  cracks  you  can  see 
that  all  is  still  dark.  In  a  few  moments  a  faint 
grayness  steals  into  the  air,  and  off  in  the  half  dark- 
ness you  hear  the  Somali  gunbearers  chanting  their 
morning  prayers — soft,  musical,  and  soothing. 
Then  there  are  more  voices  murmuring  in  the  air 
and  the  camp  slowly  awakens  to  life.  Some  one  is 
heard  chopping  wood,  and  by  that  time  day  breaks 
with  a  crash.  All  is  life,  and  the  birds  are  singing 
as  though  mad  with  the  joy  of  life  and  sunshine.  A 
little  later  a  shadowy  figure  appears  by  your  cot 
and  says,  rfChai,  bwana"  which  means,  "Tea,  mas- 
ter." 

You  turn  over  and  slowly  sip  the  hot  tea,  while 
outside  in  the  clear  morning  air  the  sound  of  voices 
grows  and  grows  until  you  know  that  eighty  or  a 
hundred  men  are  busy  getting  their  breakfasts. 
The  crackling  of  many  fires  greets  your  ears  and 
the  pungent  smell  of  wood  fires  salutes  your  nos- 
trils. You  look  at  your  watch  and  it  is  perhaps  five 
or  half  past.  The  air  is  still  cold  and  you  hasten  to 
slip  out  of  your  cot.  It  is  never  considered  wise  to 
bathe  in  the  morning  here. 


74,  IN    AFRICA 

Your  shoes  or  boots  are  by  your  bed,  all  oiled  and 
cleaned,  and  your  puttees  are  neatly  rolled,  ready 
to  be  wound  around  you  from  the  tops  of  the  shoes 
to  the  knee.  Your  clean  flannels  (one  always  wears 
heavy  flannel  underclothes  and  heavy  woolen  socks 
in  this  climate)  are  laid  out  and  your  clothes  for 
the  day's  march  are  ready  for  you.  You  get  into 
your  clothes  and  boots,  go  out  of  your  tent,  and  find 
there  a  basin  of  hot  water  and  your  toilet  equip- 
ment. The  basin  is  supported  on  a  three-pronged 
stick  thrust  into  the  ground  and  makes  a  thoroughly 
satisfactory  washstand.  The  fire  in  front  of  the 
cook's  tent  is  burning  merrily  and  he  and  his  assist- 
ants are  busily  at  work  on  the  morning  breakfast. 
Twenty  other  camp-fires  are  burning  around  the 
twenty  small  white  tents  that  the  porters  and  others 
occupy,  and  scores  of  half -clad  natives  are  cooking 
their  breakfasts.  The  ration  that  we  were  required 
to  give  them  was  a  pound  and  a  half  of  ground  corn 
a  day  for  each  man,  but  in  good  hunting  country  we 
got  them  a  good  deal  of  meat  to  eat.  They  are  very 
fond  of  hartebeest,  zebra,  rhino,  and  especially 
hippo.  In  fact,  they  are  eager  to  eat  any  kind  of 
meat,  so  that  anything  we  killed  was  certain  to  be  of 
practical  use  as  food  for  the  porters.  This  fact 
greatly  relieves  the  conscience  of  the  man  who 
shoots  an  animal  for  its  fine  horns.  Six  porters 
sleep  in  each  of  the  little  shelter  tents  which  we  were 
required  to  supply  them,  and  this  number  sleeping 
so  closely  packed  served  to  keep  them  warm  through 
the  cold  African  highland  nights. 


A    SAFARI    AND    WHAT    IT    IS  75 

By  six  o'clock  our  folding  table  in  the  mess  tent 
is  laid  with  white  linen  and  white  enamel  dishes  for 
breakfast.  So  we  take  our  places.  If  we  are  in 
a  fruit  country  we  have  some  oranges  and  bananas 
or  papayas,  a  sort  of  pawpaw  that  is  most  delicious ; 
it  is  a  cross  between  a  cantaloupe  and  a  mango. 
Then  we  have  oatmeal  with  evaporated  cream  and 
sugar;  then  we  have  choice  cuts  from  some  animal 
that  was  killed  the  day  before — usually  the  liver 
or  the  tenderloin.  Then  we  have  eggs  and  finish 
up  on  jam  or  marmalade  and  honey.  We  have 
coffee  for  breakfast  and  tea  for  the  other  meals. 

While  we  are  eating  the  tent  boys  have  packed 
our  tin  trunks,  our  folding  tent  table,  our  cots  and 
our  pillows,  cork  mattresses  and  blankets.  The  gun- 
bearer  gets  our  two  favorite  rifles  and  cameras, 
field-glasses  and  water  bottles.  Then  down  comes 
the  double-roofed  green  tents,  all  is  wrapped  into 
closely-packed  bags,  and  before  we  are  through 
with  breakfast  all  the  tented  village  has  disap- 
peared and  only  the  mess  tent  and  the  two  little 
outlying  canvas  shelters  remain.  It  is  a  scene  of 
great  activity.  Porters  are  busily  making  up  their 
packs  and  the  head-man  with  the  askaris  are  busy 
directing  them.  In  a  half-hour  all  that  remains  is  a 
scattered  assortment  of  bundles,  all  neatly  bound 
up  in  stout  cords. 

One  man  may  carry  a  tent-bag  and  poles,  an- 
other a  tin  uniform  case  with  a  shot-gun  strapped  on 
top;  another  may  have  a  bedding  roll  and  a  chair 
or  table,  and  so  on  until  the  whole  outfit  is  reduced 


76 


IN    AFRICA 


to  eighty  compact  bundles  which  include  the  food 
for  the  porters,  the  ant-proof  food  boxes  with  our 
own  food,  and  the  horns  and  skins  of  our  trophies. 
The  work  of  breaking  camp  is  reduced  to  a  science. 
Our  gunbearers  are  waiting  and  the  saises  with 
the  mules  are  in  readiness.  So  we  start  off,  usually 


Our  Safari  on  the  March 

walking  the  first  hour  or  two,  with  gunbearers  and 
saises  and  mules  trailing  along  behind.  Soon  after- 
ward we  look  back  to  see  the  long  procession  of 
porters  following  along  in  single  file.  Our  tent 
boys  carry  our  third  rifle,  and  behind  them  all  comes 
the  head-man,  ready  to  spur  on  any  lagging  porters. 
The  early  morning  hours  are  bright  and  cool, 


A   SAFARI    AND    WHAT    IT    IS  77 

but  along  about  nine  o'clock  the  equatorial  sun  be- 
gins to  beat  down  upon  our  heavy  sun  helmets  and 
our  red-lined  and  padded  spine  protectors.  But  it 
is  seldom  hot  for  long.  A  cloud  passes  across  the 
sun  and  instantly  everything  is  cooled.  A  wave 
of  wind  sweeps  across  the  hill  and  cools  the  moist 
brow  like  a  camphor  compress.  An  instant  later  the 
sun  is  out  again  and  the  land  lies  swimming  in  the 
shimmer  of  heat  waves.  Distant  hills  swim  on  mi- 
ragic  lakes,  and  if  we  are  in  plains  country  the 
mirages  appear  upon  all  sides. 

We  rarely  shot  while  on  a  march  from  camp  to 
camp.  We  walked  or  rode  along,  watching  the 
swarms  of  game  that  slowly  moved  away  as  we  ap- 
proached. The  scenery  was  beautiful.  Sometimes 
we  wound  along  on  game  trails  or  native  trails 
through  vast  park -like  stretches  of  rolling  hills ;  at 
other  times  we  climbed  across  low  hills  studded 
with  thorn  scrub,  while  off  in  the  distance  rose  the 
blue  hills  and  mountains.  To  the  northward,  al- 
ways with  us,  was  the  great  Mount  Kenia,  eighteen 
thousand  feet  high  and  nearly  always  veiled  with 
masses  of  clouds.  On  her  slopes  are  great  droves  of 
elephants,  and  we  could  pick  out  the  spot  where 
three  years  before  Mrs.  Akeley  had  killed  her  ele- 
phant with  the  record  pair  of  tusks. 

Our  marches  were  seldom  long.  At  noon  or  even 
earlier  we  arrived  at  our  new  camping  place,  ten  or 
twelve  miles  from  our  starting  of  the  morning. 
Frequently  we  loitered  along  so  that  the  porters 
might  get  there  first  and  the  camp  be  fully  estab- 


78  IN    AFRICA 

lished  when  we  arrived.  At  other  times  we  arrived 
early  and  picked  out  a  spot,  where  ticks  and  malaria 
were  not  likely  to  be  bothersome. 

We  usually  camped  near  a  river.  Our  first  camp 
was  on  the  Athi  Plains,  near  Nairobi ;  our  second  at 
Nairobi  Falls,  where  the  river  plunges  down  a 
sixty-foot  drop  in  a  spot  of  great  beauty.  Our 
third  camp  was  on  the  Induruga  River,  in  a  beauti- 
ful but  malarious  spot;  our  fifth  was  on  the  Thika 
Thika  River,  where  it  was  so  cold  in  the  morning 
that  the  vapor  of  our  breathing  was  visible ;  and  our 
sixth  on  a  wind-blown  hill  where  a  whirlwind  blew 
down  our  mess  tent  and  scattered  the  cook's  fire 
^  until  the  whole  grass  veldt  was  in  furious  flames. 
It  took  a  hundred  men  an  hour  to  put  out  the 
flames. 

Our  next  camp  was  at  Fort  Hall,  where  a  poison- 
ous snake  came  into  my  tent  while  I  was  working. 
It  crawled  under  my  chair  and  was  by  my  feet  when 
I  saw  it.  It  was  chased  out  and  killed  in  the  grass 
near  my  tent,  and  a  porter  cut  out  the  fangs  to 
show  me.  For  a  day  or  two  I  looked  before  put- 
ting on  my  shoes,  but  after  that  I  ceased  to  think 
of  it. 

After  that  time  our  camps  were  along  the  Tana 
River,  in  a  beautiful  country  thronged  with  game, 
but,  unhappily,  a  district  into  which  comparatively 
few  hunters  come  on  account  of  the  fever  that  is 
said  to  prevail  there.  We  were  obliged  to  leave  our 
mules  at  Fort  Hall  because  it  was  considered  cer- 
tain death  to  them  if  we  took  them  into  this  fly  belt. 


A   SAFARI    AND    WHAT    IT    IS  79 

When  the  porters  arrive  at  a  camping  place  a 
good  spot  is  picked  out  for  our  four  tents  and  mess 
tent,  the  cook  tent  is  located,  and  in  a  short  time 
the  camp  is  ready.  In  my  tent  the  cot  is  spread,  with 
blankets  airing ;  the  mosquito  net  is  up,  the  table  is 
ready,  with  toilet  articles,  books  and  cigars  laid  out. 
The  three  tin  uniform  cases  are  in  their  places,  my 


The  Safari  in  Camp 

cameras  are  in  their  places,  as  are  also  the  guns 
and  lanterns.  A  floor  cloth  covers  the  ground 
and  a  long  easy  chair  is  ready  for  occupancy.  Tow- 
els and  water  are  ready,  and  pajamas  and  cholera 
belt  are  on  the  pillow  of  the  cot.  Everything  is 
done  that  should  be  done,  and  I  am  immediately  in 
a  well  established  house  with  all  my  favorite  articles 
in  their  accustomed  places. 


80  IN    AFRICA 

A  luncheon,  with  fruit,  meat,  curry  and  a  pastry 
is  ready  by  the  time  we  are,  and  then  we  smoke  or 
sleep  through  the  broiling  midday  hours.  Mr. 
Stephenson — or  "Fred,"  as  he  is  with  us — and  I 
go  out  on  a  scouting  expedition  and  look  for  good 
specimens  to  add  to  our  collection  of  horns  or  to 
get  food  for  the  porters.  Sometimes  the  whole 
party  went  out,  either  photographing  charging 
rhinos  or  shooting,  but  this  part  of  the  daily 
program  was  usually  too  varied  to  generalize  as 
part  of  the  daily  doings.  Several  porters  went  with 
each  of  us  to  bring  in  the  game,  which  there  is  rarely 
any  uncertainty  of  securing. 

In  the  evening  we  return  and  find  our  baths  of 
hot  water  ready.  We  take  off  our  heavy  hunting 
boots  and  slip  into  the  soft  mosquito  boots.  After 
which  dinner  is  ready,  and  our  menu  is  strangely 
varied.  Sometimes  we  have  kongoni  steaks,  at 
other  times  we  have  the  heart  of  waterbuck  or  the 
liver  of  bushbuck  or  impalla.  Twice  we  had  rhino 
tongue  and  once  rhino  tail  soup.  We  eat,  and  at  six 
o'clock  the  darkness  of  night  suddenly  spreads  over 
the  land.  We  talk  over  our  several  adventures  of 
the  afternoon,  some  of  which  may  be  quite  thrill- 
ing, and  then,  with  camp  chairs  drawn  around  the 
great  camp-fire,  and  with  the  sentinel  askari  pacing 
back  and  forth,  we  spend  a  drowsy  hour  in  talking. 
Gradually  the  sounds  of  night  come  on.  Off  there 
a  hyena  is  howling  or  a  zebra  is  barking,  and  we 
know  that  through  all  those  shadowy  masses  of  trees 
the  beasts  of  prey  are  creeping  forth  for  their 


A    SAFARI    AND    WHAT    IT    IS  81 

night's  hunting.  The  porters'  tents  are  ranged  in 
a  wide  semicircle,  and  their  camp-fires  show  little 
groups  of  men  squatting  about  them.  Somewhere 
one  is  playing  a  tin  flute,  another  is  playing  a 
French  harp,  and  some  are  singing.  It  is  a  picture 
never  to  be  forgotten,  and  rich  with  a  charm  that 
will  surely  always  send  forth  its  call  to  the  restless 
soul  of  the  man  who  goes  back  to  the  city. 

Sometimes  the  evening  program  is  different. 
When  one  of  us  brings  in  some  exceptional  trophy 
there  is  a  great  celebration,  with  singing  and  native 
dances,  and  cheers  for  the  Bwana  who  did  the  heroic 
deed.  The  first  lion  in  a  camp  is  a  signal  for  great 
rejoicing  and  celebrating — however,  that  is  another 
story — the  story  of  my  first  lion. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  tents  are  closed  and  all  the 
camp  is  quiet  in  sleep.  Outside  in  the  darkness  the 
askari  paces  to  and  fro,  and  the  thick  masses  of 
foliage  stand  out  in  inky  blackness  against  the  bril- 
liant tropic  night.  We  are  far  from  civilization, 
but  one  has  as  great  a  feeling  of  security  as  though 
he  were  surrounded  by  chimneys  and  electric  lights. 
And  no  sleep  is  sweeter  than  that  which  has  come 
after  a  day's  marching  over  sun-swept  hills  or 
through  the  tangled  reed  beds  where  every  sense 
must  always  be  on  the  alert  for  hidden  dangers. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  LION  DRIVE.    WITH  A  RHINO  IN  RANGE  SOME  ONE 

SHOUTS  "SIMBA"  AND  i  GET  MY  FIRST  GLIMPSE 

OF  A  WILD  LION.    THREE  SHOTS  AND  OUT 

LIKE  every  one  who  goes  to  Africa  with  a  gun 
and  a  return  ticket,  I  had  two  absorbing  ambitions. 
One  was  to  kill  a  lion  and  the  other  to  live  to  tell 
about  it.  In  my  estimation  all  the  other  animals 
compared  to  a  lion  as  latitude  eighty-seven  and  a 
half  compares  to  the  north  pole.  I  wanted  to  climb 
out  of  the  Tartarin  of  Tarascon  class  of  near  lion 
hunters  into  the  ranks  of  those  who  are  entitled  to 
remark,  "Once,  when  I  was  in  Africa  shooting 
lions,"  etc.  A  dead  lion  is  bogey  in  the  big  game 
sport — the  score  that  every  hunter  dreams  of  achiev- 
ing— and  I  was  extremely  eager  to  make  the  dream 
a  reality. 

When  speaking  with  English  sportsmen  in  Lon- 
don my  first  question  was,  "Did  you  get  any  lions?" 
If  they  had,  they  at  once  rose  in  my  estimation;  if 
not,  no  matter  how  many  elephants  or  rhinos  or  buf- 
faloes they  may  have  shot,  they  still  remained  in  the 
amateur  class. 

On  the  steamer  going  down  to  Mombasa  the 
hunting  talk  was  four-fifths  lion  and  one-fifth 
about  other  game.  The  cripple  who  had  been  badly 

82 


Mr.    Stephenson's    Lion 


A    Post   Mortem    Inquiry 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A    WILD    LION 


83 


mauled  by  a  lion  was  a  person  of  much  distinction, 
even  more  so  than  the  ivory  hunter  who  had  killed 
three  hundred  elephants. 

On  the  railway  to  Nairobi  every  eye  was  on  the 
lookout  for  lions  and  every  one  gazed  with  intense 
interest  at  the  station  of  Tsavo  and  remembered 
the  famous  pair  of  man-eaters  that  had  terrorized 
that  place  some  years  before. 

In  Nairobi  the  men  who  had  killed  lions,  and 
those  who  had  been  mauled  by  them  (and  there  are 


The  Jolly  Little  Cemetery 

many  of  the  latter),  were  objects  of  vast  concern, 
and  the  little  cemetery  with  its  many  headstones 
marked  "Killed  by  lion"  added  still  greater  fire  to 
my  interest. 

Consequently,  when  we  marched  out  of  Nairobi 
on  the  evening  of  September  twenty-third,  with 
tents  and  guns  and  a  hundred  and  twenty  men,  the 
dominating  thought  was  of  lions.  If  ever  any  one 
had  greater  hope  and  less  expectation  of  killing  a 
lion  I  was  the  one. 

We  had  planned  a  short  trip  of  from  three  to  five 


84,  IN    AFRICA 

weeks  northeast  of  Nairobi  in  what  is  called  the 
Tana  River  country.  While  there  are  some  lions 
in  that  section,  as  there  are  in  most  parts  of  British 
East  Africa,  it  is  not  considered  a  good  lion  coun- 
try. Buffaloes,  rhinos,  hippos,  giraffes,  and  many 
varieties  of  smaller  game  are  abundant,  largely  be- 
cause the  Tana  River  is  in  a  bad  fever  belt  and  hunt- 
ing parties  generally  prefer  to  go  elsewhere.  This 
preliminary  trip  was  intended  to  perfect  our  shoot  - 


Peering  for  Lions 

ing,  so  that  later,  when  in  real  lion  country,  we 
might  be  better  equipped  to  take  on  the  king  of 
beasts  with  some  promise  of  hitting  him. 

The  tree-tops  and  corrugated  iron  roofs  of 
Nairobi  had  hardly  dropped  behind  a  long,  sun- 
soaked  hump  of  the  Athi  Plains  when  I  began  to 
peel  my  eyes  inquiringly  for  lions.  All  the  lion 
stories  that  I  had  heard  for  the  preceding  few 
months  paraded  back  and  forth  in  my  memory,  and 
if  ever  a  horizon  was  thoroughly  scanned  for  lion, 
that  horizon  just  out  of  Nairobi  was  the  one. 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A    WILD    LION  85 

Hartebeests  in  droves  loped  awkwardly  away  from 
the  trail  and  then  turned  and  looked  with  wonder- 
ing interest  at  us.  Zebras,  too  fat  to  run,  trotted 
off,  and  also  turned  to  observe  the  invaders.  Ga- 
zelles did  the  same,  and  away  off  in  the  distance  a 
few  wildebeests  went  galloping  slowly  to  a  safe 
distance.  They  were  probably  safe  at  any  distance 
had  they  only  known  it,  for  up  to  the  hour  when  I 
cantered  forth  from  Nairobi  in  quest  of  lions  and 
rhinos  I  had  not  shot  at  anything  for  three  years, 
nor  hit  anything  for  ten. 

Night  came  on — the  black,  sudden  night  of 
Africa — and  we  went  into  camp  four  miles  from 
Nairobi  without  ever  having  heard  the  welcome  roar 
of  a  lion.  It  was  a  distinct  disappointment.  I  re- 
membered the  story  about  the  lions  that  stampeded 
the  zebras  through  the  peaceful  gardens  of  Nairobi 
only  a  few  nights  before — also  the  report  that  some 
man-eaters  had  been  recently  partaking  of  nourish- 
ment along  the  very  road  upon  which  we  were  now 
camping.  I  also  remembered  hearing  that  lions 
had  been  seen  prowling  around  the  edge  of  the 
town  and  that  the  Athi  Plains  are  a  time-honored 
habitat  of  the  lion  family.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
thought  of  Mr.  Roosevelt,  who  had  recently  been 
reducing  the  supply.  I  also  remembered  how  many 
hunters  had  spent  years  in  Africa  without  ever  see- 
ing a  lion,  and  how  Doctor  Rainsf  ord  had  made  two 
different  hunting  trips  to  Africa,  always  looking 
for  lions,  but  without  success. 

During  our  first  three  days  of  marching,  we 


86  IN    AFRICA 

looked  industriously  for  lions.  On  broad,  grassy 
plain,  in  low  scrub,  on  the  slopes  of  low  hills — 
everywhere  we  looked  for  them.  If  a  flock  of 
vultures  circled  above  a  distant  spot  we  went 
over  at  once  in  the  hope  of  surprising  a  lion  at  his 
kill.  Every  reed  bed  was  promptly  investigated, 
every  dry  nullah  was  explored.  McMillan's  farm, 
which  is  a  farm  only  in  name,  was  scoured  without 
ever  a  sign  or  a  hint  that  a  lion  lurked  thereabouts. 
Mr.  McMillan  has  four  lions  in  a  cage,  but  they 
snarled  so  savagely  that  we  hastened  away  to  look 
for  lions  elsewhere.  The  second  day  we  crossed  the 
Nairobi  River,  the  third  day  we  crossed  the  Indur- 
uga  River,  and  the  fourth  day  we  camped  down  on 
the  Athi  River.  Here  we  struck  a  clue.  Two 
English  settlers  came  over  and  told  us  that  lions 
had  been  heard  the  night  before  near  their  ranch 
house,  on  the  slopes  of  Donyo  Sabuk,  a  high  soli- 
tary round  top  mountain  rising  from  the  Athi 
Plains,  and  we  determined  to  organize  our  first  lion 
hunt.  It  was  here  that  Mr.  Lucas  was  killed  by  a 
lion  a  short  time  before. 

A  lion  hunt,  or  a  lion  drive,  is  quite  a  ceremony. 
You  take  thirty  or  forty  natives,  go  to  the  place 
where  the  lion  was  heard,  and  then  beat  every  bit 
of  cover  in  the  hope  of  scaring  out  the  beasts.  Lions 
are  fond  of  lying  iip  during  the  day  in  dry  reed 
beds,  and  when  you  go  out  looking  for  them  you  are 
most  likely  to  find  them  in  such  places. 

We  started,  three  of  us,  with  forty  porters,  at 
about  daybreak.  At  seven  o'clock  we  had  climbed 


Mr.  Stephenson's  Splendid  Buffalo 


"  Lion    Camp  " 


->.:•  v;:v^ 


The   Lion  and   Lioness  in   Camp 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A    WILD    LION  87 

up  the  side  of  the  mountain  to  the  spot  where  the 
lions  were  supposed  to  be  lurking — a  long,  reed- 
filled  cleft  in  the  side  of  the  slope.  The  porters 
were  sent  up  to  one  end  of  the  reed  bed,  twenty  on 
each  side,  while  we  went  below  to  where  the  lion 
would  probably  be  driven  out  by  their  shouting  and 
noise.  The  porters  bombarded  the  reeds  with  stones 
while  we  waited  with  rifles  ready  for  the  angry  crea- 
ture to  dash  out  in  our  vicinity.  It  was  an  interest- 
ing wait,  with  plenty  of  food  for  thought.  I  won- 
dered why  the  Englishmen  had  not  come  out  to  get 
the  lions  themselves,  and  then  remembered  that  one 
of  them  had  been  mauled  by  a  lion  and  had  hence- 
forth remained  neutral  in  all  lion  fights.  I  won- 
dered many  other  things  which  I  have  now  forgot- 
ten. I  was  quite  busy  wondering  for  some  time  as  I 
waited.  In  the  meantime  the  lions  failed  to  appear. 

Bushbuck,  waterbuck,  and  lots  of  other  herbiv- 
ora  appeared,  but  no  carnivora.  We  raked  the  reed 
bed  fore  and  aft,  and  combed  the  long  grass  in 
every  direction.  A  young  rhino  was  startled  in  his 
morning  nap,  ran  around  excitedly  for  a  while,  and 
then  trotted  off.  Birds  of  many  varieties  fluttered 
up  and  wondered  what  the  racket  was  about.  At 
ten  o'clock  we  decided  that  the  lions  had  failed  to 
do  their  part  of  the  program,  and  that  no  further 
developments  were  to  be  expected.  So  we  marched 
back  homeward,  got  mixed  up  with  another  rhino, 
and  finally  gained  camp,  seven  miles  away,  just 
as  our  hunger  had  reached  an  advanced  stage. 

The  next  day  we  marched  to  the  Thika  Thika 


88  IN    AFRICA 

River,  then  to  Punda  Milia,  and  then  to  Fort  Hall. 
Some  one  claimed  to  have  heard  a  lion  out  from 
Fort  Hall  early  in  the  morning,  but  I  more  than 
half  suspect  it  was  one  of  our  porters  who  rever- 
berates when  he  sleeps.  From  Fort  Hall  we  crossed 
the  Tana  and  made  three  marches  down  the  river. 
Rhinos  were  everywhere  jumping  out  from  behind 
bushes  when  least  expected  and  in  many  ways  be- 
having in  a  most  diverting  way.  For  a  time  we 
forgot  lions  while  dodging  rhinos.  There  were 
dozens  of  them  in  the  thick,  low  scrub,  with  now  and 
then  a  bunch  of  eland,  or  a  herd  of  waterbuck,  or 
a  few  hundred  of  the  ubiquitous  kongoni. 

We  camped  in  a  beautiful  spot  down  on  the 
Tana.  The  country  looked  like  a  park,  with  grace- 
ful trees  scattered  about  on  the  rolling  lawn-like 
hills.  On  all  sides  was  game  in  great  profusion. 
Hippos  played  about  in  the  river,  baboons  scam- 
pered about  on  the  edge  of  the  water,  monkeys  chat- 
tered in  the  trees,  and  it  seemed  as  though  nearly 
all  of  the  eight  hundred  varieties  of  East  African 
birds  gave  us  a  morning  serenade.  A  five-min- 
utes' walk  from  camp  would  show  you  a  rhino,  while 
from  the  top  of  any  knoll  one  could  look  across  a 
vast  sweep  of  hills  upon  which  almost  countless 
numbers  of  zebras,  kongoni,  and  other  animals 
might  be  seen. 

But  never  a  lion.  It  certainly  looked  discourag- 
ing. 

As  a  form  of  pleasant  excitement,  we  began  to 
photograph  rhinos.  Mr.  Akeley  took  out  his  mov- 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A   WILD    LION  89 

ing-picture  machine,  advanced  it  cautiously  to 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  unsuspecting  rhino,  and 
then  wre  tried  to  provoke  a  charge.  We  took  a 
dozen  or  more  rhinos  in  this  way,  often  approach- 
ing to  within  a  few  yards,  and  if  there  is  any  more 
exciting  diversion  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  I've 
looped  the  loop  and  there  is  no  comparison.  It  is 
more  like  being  ambushed  by  Filipino  insurgents 
— that  is,  it's  the  same  kind  of  excitement,  with 
more  danger. 

One  day  it  was  necessary  to  shoot  a  big  bull 
rhino.  He  staggered  and  fell,  but  at  once  got  up 
and  trotted  over  a  hill.  Having  wounded  him,  it 
was  then  necessary  for  me  to  follow  him,  which  I 
did  for  three  blazing  hours.  From  nine  o'clock  till 
twelve  I  followed,  with  the  sun  beating  down  on 
the  dry,  grass-covered  hills  as  though  it  meant  to 
burn  up  everything  beneath  it.  If  any  one  had 
asked  me,  "Is  it  hot  enough  for  you?"  I  should  have 
answered  "Yes"  without  a  moment's  hesitation. 
The  horizon  shimmered  in  waves  of  heat.  From 
the  top  of  one  hill  I  could  see  my  rhino  half  a  mile 
away  on  the  slope  of  another.  When  I  reached  the 
slope  he  was  a  mile  farther  on.  I  began  to  think  he 
was  a  mirage.  For  a  wounded  animal,  with  two 
five-hundred-grain  shells  in  his  shoulder,  he  was  the 
most  astonishing  example  of  vitality  I  have  ever 
seen.  He  would  have  been  safe  against  a  Gatling 
gun.  There  were  more  low  trees  a  mile  farther  on, 
and  I  plodded  doggedly  on  in  the  hope  of  getting 
a  little  relief  from  the  sun.  As  I  drew  near  I 


90  IN    AFRICA 

noticed  a  rhino  standing  under  the  trees,  but  he  was 
not  the  wounded  one.  I  decided  that  the  shade  was 
insufficient  for  both  of  us  and  moved  swiftly  on. 
Across  the  valley  on  the  slope  of  another  blistered 
hill  stood  the  one  I  was  looking  for.  He  didn't 
seem  to  be  in  the  chastened  mood  of  one  who  is 
about  to  die.  He  seemed  vexed  about  something, 
probably  the  two  cordite  shells  he  was  carrying.  I 
at  last  came  up  within  a  hundred  yards  of  him.  He 
had  got  my  wind  and  was  facing  me  with  tail  nerv- 
ously erect.  The  tail  of  a  rhino  is  an  infallible  bar- 
ometer of  his  state  of  mind.  With  his  short  sight,  I 
knew  that  he  could  not  see  me  at  that  distance,  but  I 
knew  that  he  had  detected  the  direction  in  which  the 
danger  lay.  By  slowly  moving  ahead,  the  distance 
was  cut  to  about  seventy  yards,  which  was  not  too 
far  away  in  an  open  country  with  a  wounded  rhino 
in  the  foreground.  I  resolved  to  shoot  before  he 
charged  or  before  he  ran  away,  and  so  I  prepared  to 
end  the  long  chase  with  an  unerring  shot. 

Suddenly  a  sound  struck  my  ear  that  acted  upon 
me  like  an  electric  shock : 

"Simbaf 

It  was  the  one  word  that  I  had  been  hoping  to 
hear  ever  since  leaving  Nairobi,  for  the  word 
means  "lion."  My  Somali  gunbearer  was  eagerly 
pointing  toward  a  lone  tree  that  stood  a  hun- 
dred yards  off  to  the  left.  A  huge,  hulking 
animal  was  slowly  moving  away  from  it.  It  was 
my  first  glimpse  of  a  wild  lion.  He  was  half  con- 
cealed in  the  tall,  dry  grass  and  in  a  few  seconds 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A    WILD    LION  91 

had  entirely  disappeared  from  view.  We  rushed 
after  him.  The  rhino  was  completely  forgotten 
and  was  left  to  charge  or  run  away  as  he  saw  fit. 
When  we  reached  the  spot  where  the  lion  was  last 
seen  there  was  no  trace  of  him.  He  apparently  was 
not  "as  brave  as  a  lion."  We  followed  the  course 
that  he  presumably  took  and  presently  reached  the 
crest  of  a  ridge.  Then  the  second  gunbearer,  a 


Game  Was  Plenty  for  a  Minute  or  Two 

keen-eyed  Kikuyu,  discovered  the  lion  three  hun- 
dred yards  off  to  the  right.  After  reaching  the  top 
of  the  hill  the  animal  had  swung  directly  off  at 
right  angles  with  the  idea  of  reaching  cover  in  a 
dry  creek  bed  some  distance  away.  I  started  to 
shoot  at  three  hundred  yards,  but  before  I  could 
take  a  careful  aim  the  lion  had  disappeared  in  the 
grass.  For  an  hour  we  thrashed  the  high  reeds  in 
the  dry  creek  bed  with  never  a  sign  of  the  king  of 


92  IN    AFRICA 

beasts.  He  had  apparently  abdicated.  He  had 
vanished  so  completely  that  I  thought  he  had  es- 
caped toward  some  low  hills  a  mile  farther  on.  The 
disappointment  of  seeing  a  lion  and  not  getting 
it,  or  at  least  shooting  at  it,  was  keen  to  a  degree 
that  actually  hurt. 

There  was  nothing  left  but  to  resume  our  chase 
after  the  wounded  rhino.  It  was  like  going  back 
to  work  after  a  pleasant  two  weeks'  vacation.  We 
presently  found  him  on  a  far  distant  hill,  and  after 
an  hour's  tramp  in  the  sun  we  came  up  to  him  in 
the  middle  of  the  rolling  prairie.  There  was  not  a 
tree  for  a  mile,  nor  a  single  avenue  of  escape  in  case 
he  charged.  Horticulture  had  never  interested  me 
especially,  but  just  at  this  moment  I  think  a  tree, 
even  a  thorn  tree,  would  have  been  a  pleasant  sub- 
ject for  intimate  study.  However,  to  make  a 
long  story  longer,  I  shot  him  at  a  hundred  yards 
and  felt  certain  that  both  shells  struck.  Yet  he 
wheeled  around  and,  stumbling  occasionally,  was 
off  like  a  railway  train.  Again  we  followed,  two 
miles  of  desperate  tramping  in  that  merciless  sun, 
up  hills  and  down  hills,  until  finally  we  entirely  lost 
all  trace  of  him.  It  was  now  two  o'clock.  I  had 
eaten  nothing  since  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  my 
water  bottle  was  so  nearly  empty  that  I  dared  take 
only  a  swallow  at  a  time,  my  knees  were  sore  from 
climbing  hills  and  wading  through  the  tall,  dry 
prairie  grass,  and  I  decided  to  give  up  this  endless 
pursuit  of  a  rhino  who  wouldn't  die  after  being  hit 
with  four  cordite  shells. 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A    WILD    LION  93 

The  dry  creek  bed  lay  in  the  course  of  our  home- 
ward march,  and  we  resolved  to  take  a  final  look  at 
it.  There  seemed  no  likelihood  that  the  lion  was 
there,  and  I  walked  into  the  place  with  the  su- 
preme courage  of  one  who  doesn't  expect  to  find 
anything  hostile.  My  head  gunbearer  and  I  had 
crossed  and  were  walking  down  in  the  grass  at  one 
side.  My  second  gunbearer  was  on  the  opposite 
side,  and  the  stillness  of  death  hung  over  the  burn- 
ing plain. 

There  was  not  a  sign  of  life  in  any  direction. 
The  second  gunbearer  was  instructed  to  set  fire  to 
the  grass  in  the  hope  of  awakening  some  protest 
from  the  lion  in  case  he  was  still  in  the  vicinity. 
There  was  a  dry  crackling  of  flames,  and  before  we 
could  count  ten  a  deep  growl  came  from  somewhere 
in  front  of  me,  evidently  on  one  of  the  edges  of  the 
creek  bed.  The  second  gunbearer  was  the  first  to 
locate  him,  and  he  signaled  for  me  to  come  over 
on  his  side  of  the  creek.  In  a  moment  I  had  dashed 
down  and  had  climbed  out  on  the  other  side  and  was 
eagerly  gazing  at  a  clump  of  bushes  indicated  by 
the  Kikuyu.  At  first  I  could  distinguish  nothing, 
but  soon  I  saw  the  tawny  flanks  and  the  lashing  tail 
of  the  lion.  His  head  was  hidden  by  the  bushes. 
At  that  time  we  were  about  a  hundred  yards  from 
him  and  it  was  necessary  to  circle  off  to  a  point 
where  the  rest  of  his  body  could  be  seen.  A  little 
side  ravine  intervened,  and  I  had  to  cross  it  and 
come  directly  down  through  the  clump  of  bushes. 
The  grass  was  high,  and  it  was  not  until  I  had  come 


94  IN    AFRICA 

within  forty  yards  of  the  lion  that  I  could  get  a 
clear  view  of  him.  He  was  glaring  at  me,  with  tail 
waving  angrily,  and  his  mouth  was  opened  in  a 
savage  snarl.  I  could  see  that  he  didn't  like  me. 

I  raised  the  little  .256  Mannlicher,  aimed  care- 
fully at  his  open  mouth  and  fired.  The  lion  turned 
a  back  somersault  and  a  great  thrill  of  exultation 
suffused  me.  Already  I  saw  the  handsomely 
mounted  lion-skin  rug  ornamenting  my  den  at 
home.  We  approached  cautiously,  always  remem- 
bering that  the  real  danger  of  lion  hunting  comes 
after  the  lion  has  been  shot.  We  threw  stones  in 
the  grass  where  he  had  lain,  but  no  answering  growl 
was  heard.  I  thought  he  was  dead,  but  when  we 
finally  reached  the  spot  where  he  had  been  there  was 
no  sign  of  him.  He  had  vanished  again.  I  searched 
the  ravine  and  then  crossed  to  the  high  grass  on  the 
other  side.  Then  we  saw  him  for  an  instant,  half- 
concealed,  just  in  front  of  us.  His  head  was  hang- 
ing, and  he  looked  as  though  he  had  been  hard  hit. 
Again  he  disappeared  and  we  searched  high  and 
low  for  him.  For  several  hundred  feet  we  beat  the 
grass  without  result. 

Then  the  grass  was  again  fired  and  again  the 
hoarse  growl  came  in  angry  protest.  Walking 
slowly,  with  guns  ready  for  instant  use,  we  ad- 
vanced until  we  could  see  him  under  a  tree  seventy 
yards  ahead  on  my  side  of  the  ravine.  He  was 
growling  angrily.  This  time  I  used  the  double- 
barreled  cordite  rifle  and  the  first  shot  struck  him  in 
the  forehead  without  knocking  him  down.  He 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A    WILD    LION  95 

sprang  up  and  the  second  shot  stretched  him  out. 
He  was  still  alive  when  I  came  up  to  him,  and  a 
small  bullet  was  fired  into  the  base  of  his  brain  to 
reduce  the  danger  of  a  final  charge. 

Old  hunters  always  caution  one  about  approach- 
ing a  dying  lion,  for  often  the  beast  musters  up 
unexpected  vitalily,  makes  a  final  charge,  kills  some- 
body, and  then  dies  happy.  So  we  waited  a  few 
feet  away  until  the  last  quiver  of  his  sides  had 
passed.  One  of  the  boys  pulled  his  tail  and  shook 
him,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  life.  He  was  extinct. 

A  new  danger  now  threatened.  The  grass  fire 
that  the  second  gunbearer  had  started  was  sweep- 
ing the  prairie,  fanned  by  a  strong  wind,  and 
there  seemed  to  be  not  only  the  danger  of  abandon- 
ing the  lion,  but  of  being  forced  to  flee  before  the 
flames.  So  we  fell  to  work  beating  out  the  nearest 
fires,  and  trusted  that  a  shifting  of  the  wind  would 
send  the  course  of  the  flames  in  another  direction. 

It  was  now  four  o'clock.  We  were  nine  miles 
from  camp  and  food,  and  we  knew  that  at  six 
o'clock  darkness  would  suddenly  descend,  leaving 
us  out  in  a  rhino-infested  country,  far  from  camp. 
The  water  was  nearly  gone  and  the  general  outlook 
was  far  from  pleasing. 

The  gunbearers  skinned  the  lion.  My  first  shot 
had  struck  one  of  his  back  teeth,  breaking  it 
squarely  off,  and  then  passed  through  the  fleshy 
part  of  the  neck.  It  was  a  wound  that  would 
startle,  but  not  kill.  The  second  shot  had  hit  him 
between  the  eyes,  but  had  glanced  off  the  skull, 


96  IN    AFRICA 

merely  ripping  open  the  skin  on  the  forehead  for 
five  inches.  The  third  shell  had  killed  him,  except 
for  the  convulsive  heaving  that  was  finally  stilled 
by  the  small  bullet  in  the  base  of  the  brain. 

The  skinning  was  interesting.     All  the  fat  in 
certain  parts  of  the  body  was  saved,  for  East  Indi- 


As  I  Planned  to  Look  in  the  Photograph  of  "My  First  Lion  " 

ans  bid  high  for  it  and  use  it  as  a  lubricant  for 
rheumatic  pains.  The  two  shoulder  blades  are  al- 
ways saved  and  are  considered  a  valuable  trophy. 
They  are  little  bones  three  inches  long,  unattached 
and  floating,  and  have  long  since  ceased  to  perform 
any  function  in  the  working  of  the  body.  The 
broken  tooth  was  found  and  saved,  and,  of  course, 
a  photograph  was  taken.  My  gunbearer  took  the 


As  I  Looked — From  Photograph  by  Gunbearer 

picture,  and  when  it  was  developed  there  was  only 
a  part  of  the  lion  and  part  of  the  lion  slayer  visible. 
It  was  a  good  picture  of  the  tree,  however. 


98  IN    AFRICA 

At  four-thirty  the  homeward  march  was  begun. 
At  five-thirty  two  rhinos  blocked  the  path  and  one 
of  them  had  to  be  shot.  At  six  we  were  still  several 
miles  from  camp,  with  the  country  wrapped  in 
darkness.  The  water  was  gone  and  only  one  shell 
remained  for  the  big  gun.  Somewhere  ahead 
were  miles  of  thorn  scrub  in  which  there  might  be 
rhinos  or  buif aloes.  Two  days  before  I  had  killed 
two  large  buffaloes  in  the  district  through  which  we 
must  pass,  and  there  was  every  likelihood  of  others 
still  being  there.  At  seven  we  were  hopelessly  lost 
in  a  wide  stretch  of  hippo  grass,  and  I  had  to  fire 
a  shot  in  the  hope  of  getting  an  answering  shot 
from  camp.  In  a  couple  of  moments  we  heard  the 
distant  shot,  and  then  pressed  on  toward  camp. 
The  lion  had  been  carried  on  ahead  while  we  stopped 
with  the  rhino,  and  so  the  news  reached  the  camp 
before  us.  A  long  line  of  porters  came  out  to  greet 
us  and  a  great  reception  committee  was  waiting  at 
the  camp.  It  was  the  first  lion  of  the  expedition, 
and  as  such  was  the  signal  for  great  celebration. 
That  night  there  were  native  dances  and  songs 
around  the  big  central  camp-fire  and  a  wonderful 
display  of  pagan  hilarity. 

It  had  been  a  hard  day.  Fourteen  hours  without 
food,  several  hours  without  water,  and  miles  of 
hard  tramping  through  thorn  scrub  in  the  darkness 
and  of  long,  broiling  stretches  in  the  blazing  sun- 
light. It  seemed  a  good  price  to  pay  even  for  a 
lion,  but  that  night,  as  I  finally  stretched  out  on 
my  cot,  I  was  conscious  from  time  to  time  of  a  glow 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A    WILD    LION  99 

of  pleasure  that  swept  over  me.  It  seemed  that  of 
all  human  gratifications  there  was  none  equal  to 
that  experienced  by  the  man  who  has  killed  his  first 
lion. 

My  second  lion  experience  came  three  days  later. 
With  a  couple  of  tents  and  about  forty  porters  our 
party  of  four  had  marched  across  to  a  point  a 
couple  of  miles  from  where  I  had  killed  the  lion. 
We  hoped  to  put  in  a  day  or  two  looking  for  lions, 
some  of  which  had  been  reported  in  that  district. 
The  porters  went  on  ahead  with  the  camp  equip- 
ment, while  we  came  along  more  slowly.  Mr. 
Akeley  had  taken  some  close-range  photographs  of 
rhinos,  and  we  were  just  on  the  point  of  starting 
direct  for  the  new  camp  when  we  ran  across  two 
enormous  rhinos  standing  in  the  open  plain.  One 
was  extremely  large,  with  an  excellent  pair  of 
horns,  and  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  try  to 
secure  this  one  as  a  trophy,  while  Mr.  Akeley  se- 
cured a  photograph  of  the  event.  At  thirty-five 
yards  I  shot  the  larger  one  of  the  two,  and  it 
dropped  in  its  tracks.  The  other  started  to  charge, 
but  was  finally  driven  away  by  shouting  and  by 
shots  fired  in  the  air.  The  photograph  was  excel- 
lent and  quite  dramatic. 

For  an  hour  the  gunbearers  worked  on  the  dead 
rhino  and  finally  secured  the  head  and  feet  and 
certain  desirable  parts  of  the  skin.  At  noon  we  re- 
sumed our  march  for  camp,  two  or  three  miles 
away.  We  had  hardly  gone  half  the  distance  when 
one  of  the  tent  boys  was  seen  far  ahead,  riding  the 


100  IN    AFRICA 

one  mule  that  we  had  dared  to  bring  down  the  Tana 
River.  It  was  evident  that  something  important 
had  occurred  and  we  hurried  on  to  meet  him. 

"Swnbaf  he  shouted,  as  soon  as  he  could  be  heard. 
In  a  moment  we  had  the  details.  One  of  the  saises 
had  seen  two  lions,  a  large  male  and  female,  quite 
near  the  camp.  Porters  were  instructed  to  watch 
the  beasts  until  we  should  arrive,  and  now  were  sup- 
posed to  be  in  touch  with  them.  We  omitted  lunch- 
eon and  struck  off  at  once  in  the  direction  indicated 
by  the  tent  boy.  We  soon  came  up  to  the  porters 
and  an  instant  later  saw  the  lions.  It  was  a  beauti- 
ful sight.  The  two  animals  were  majestically  walk- 
ing up  the  rocky  slope  of  a  low,  fire-scorched  hill 
a  few  hundred  yards  away.  The  male  was  a  splen- 
did beast,  with  all  the  splendid  dignity  of  one  who 
fears  nothing  in  the  whole  wide  world.  From  time 
to  time  the  two  lions  stopped  and  looked  back  at  us, 
but  with  no  sign  of  fear.  Several  times  they  lay 
down,  but  soon  would  resume  their  stately  course 
up  among  the  rocks. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  picture  that  lay  before 
me.  It  was  as  though  some  famous  lion  painting 
of  Gerome  or  Landseer  had  come  to  life,  sometimes 
the  animals  being  outlined  clearly  against  the  blue 
sky  and  at  other  times  standing,  with  splendid 
heads  erect,  upon  the  rocks  of  the  low  ridge  that 
rose  ahead  of  us. 

We  stalked  them  easily.  Several  porters  were 
left  where  the  lions  could  constantly  see  them, 
while  we  three,  Akeley,  Stephenson  and  I,  with  our 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A    WILD    LION         101 

six  gunbearers,  worked  around  the  base  of  the  hill 
until  we  were  able  to  climb  up  on  the  crest  of  it, 
being  thus  constantly  screened  from  view  of  the 
lions.  At  the  crest  was  an  abrupt  outcropping  of 
blackened  rocks,  where  we  stopped  to  locate  the  two 
animals.  They  were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Twenty- 
five  yards  farther  along  on  the  crest  was  another 
little  ledge  of  rocks,  and  we  worked  our  way  silently 
along  to  it  in  the  expectation  that  the  lions  might 
have  advanced  that  far.  But  even  then  our  search 
disclosed  nothing.  For  some  time  we  waited,  scour- 
ing the  neighborhood  with  our  glasses,  and  had 
almost  reached  the  conclusion  that  the  lions  had 
made  off  down  the  other  side  of  the  hill  and  had 
reached  the  cover  of  a  shallow  ravine  some  distance 
away.  Then  we  saw  them — exactly  where  we  had 
last  seen  them  before  we  had  started  our  stalk. 
They  were  still  together  and  showed  no  sign  of 
alarm  nor  knowledge  of  our  presence  so  near  them. 
At  this  time  they  were  one  hundred  and  ten  yards 
away.  They  lay  down  again  behind  the  rocks  and 
we  waited  twenty  minutes  for  them  to  show  them- 
selves. Off  to  our  right  and  in  the  valley  another 
large  male  lion  appeared  and  moved  slowly  away 
among  the  low  scrub  trees. 

Finally  we  decided  to  rouse  the  two  lions  by 
shouting,  but  before  this  decision  could  be  carried 
out  the  male  rose  above  the  rocks  and  stood  plainly 
in  view.  It  had  previously  been  arranged  that  Mr. 
Stephenson  should  try  for  the  male,  while  I  should 
try  for  the  female.  In  an  instant  he  fired  with  his 


102 


IN    AFRICA 


big  rifle,  the  lion  whirled  around  and  then  started 
running  down  the  hill  to  the  right. 

Then  the  lioness  appeared  and  I  wounded  her 
with  my  first  shot.  She  ran  out  in  the  open  toward 
us,  but  evidently  without  knowing  from  where  the 
firing  came.  A  second  shot  was  better  placed  and 
I  saw  her  collapse  in  her  tracks.  Leaving  the 
lioness,  I  went  down  to  where  Stephenson  had  fol- 
lowed the  lion.  Several  shots  had  been  fired,  but  the 
lion  was  still  running,  although  badly  wounded. 


"A  Very  Interesting  Experience,"  Said  I  Coolly, 
a  Couple  qf  Days  Later 

Just  as  it  reached  a  small  tree  down  on  the  slope  a 
shot  was  put  into  a  vital  spot,  and  the  lion  went 
wildly  over  on  his  side.  Even  then  he  managed  to 
drag  himself  under  the  small  bushes  surrounding 
the  tree,  where  a  moment  later  Mr.  Stephenson 
killed  him  with  a  shot  from  his  .318  Mauser. 

We  measured  and  photographed  the  lion,  and 
then  I  took  my  camera  to  get  a  picture  of  the  dead 
lioness  up  on  the  ridge.  She  was  sitting  up  snarling, 
and  I  was  the  most  surprised  person  in  the  world. 
I  shot  at  her  and  she  ran  fifty  yards  to  a  small  tree, 


FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF    A    WILD    LION         103 

where  she  came  to  a  stop.  Two  more  shots  from  my 
big  gun  finished  her,  and  the  photograph  was 
finally  secured. 

Leaving  the  porters  to  watch  the  two  lions,  we 
followed  the  third  lion  that  had  been  seen  in  the 
valley.  He  had  not  gone  far  and  we  soon  found 
him,  but  too  far  away  to  get  a  shot.  For  an  hour 
we  followed  him,  but  he  finally  disappeared  and 
could  not  be  located  again. 

It  was  sundown  when  our  porters  reached  camp 
with  the  two  lions,  and  it  was  then  that  we  ate  our 
long-deferred  luncheon. 

A  week  later,  while  marching  from  the  Tana 
River  to  the  Zeka  River,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Akeley  and  I 
came  across  a  large  lion,  accompanied  by  a  lioness. 
They  were  first  seen  moving  away  across  a  low 
sloping  ridge  of  the  plains  within  a  couple  of  miles 
of  where  we  had  killed  the  lion  and  lioness  a  week 
before.  We  followed  them  and  came  up  with  them 
after  a  brisk  walk  of  ten  minutes.  Both  were  hid- 
ing in  the  grass  near  the  crest  of  the  slope,  and  we 
could  see  their  ears  and  eyes  above  the  long  grass. 
We  crouched  down  a  hundred  yards  away  and  the 
lion  rose  to  see  where  we  had  gone.  Mrs.  Akeley 
fired  and  missed,  but  her  second  shot  pierced  his 
brain  and  he  fell  like  a  log.  We  expected  a  charge 
from  the  lioness  and  waited  until  she  should  declare 
herself.  But  she  did  not  appear  and  her  where- 
abouts remained  an  anxious  mystery  until  she  was 
finally  seen  several  hundred  yards  away  making  her 
way  slowly  up  a  distant  hill.  Half-way  up  she  sat 


104  IN    AFRICA 

down  and  watched  us  as  we  made  our  way  cau- 
tiously in  the  grass  to  where  her  mate  lay  as  he  fell, 
stone  dead.  We  afterward  followed  her,  but  she 
escaped  from  view  and  could  not  be  located.  This 
lion  was  the  largest  we  had  seen  and  measured  nine 
feet  from  tip  to  tip. 

This  was  our  last  experience  with  lions  in  the 
Trans-Tana  country.  After  that  we  went  up  in 
the  elephant  country  on  Mount  Kenia,  but  that  is 
a  story  all  in  itself. 

Lion  hunting  is  the  best  kind  of  African  hunt- 
ing in  one  respect.  One  feels  no  self-reproach  in 
having  killed  a  lion,  for  there  is  always  the  com- 
forting thought  that  by  killing  one  lion  you  have 
saved  the  lives  of  three  hundred  other  animals. 
Every  lion  exacts  an  annual  toll  of  at  least  that 
number  of  zebras,  hartebeests,  or  other  forms  of 
antelopes,  all  of  which  are  powerless  to  defend 
themselves  against  the  great  creature  that  creeps 
upon  them  in  cover  of  darkness.  So  a  lion  hunter 
may  consider  himself  something  of  a  benefactor. 


ON  THE  TANA  RIVER,  THE  HOME  OF  THE  RHINO.    THE 
TIMID  ARE  FRIGHTENED,  THE  DANGEROUS  KILLED, 
AND  OTHERS  PHOTOGRAPHED.     MOVING  PIC- 
TURES OF  A  RHINO  CHARGE 

DOWN  on  the  Tana  River  the  rhinos  are  more  com- 
mon than  in  any  other  known  section  of  Africa. 
In  two  weeks  we  saw  over  one  hundred — perhaps 
two  hundred — of  them — so  many,  in  fact,  that  one 
of  the  chief  diversions  of  the  day  was  to  count 
rhinos.  One  day  we  counted  twenty-six,  another 
day  nineteen,  and  by  the  time  we  left  the  district 
rhinos  had  become  such  fixtures  in  the  landscape  as 
to  cause  only  casual  comment.  Perhaps  there  were 
some  repeaters,  ones  that  were  counted  twice,  but 
even  allowing  for  that  there  were  still  some  left. 
We  saw  big  ones  and  little  ones,  old  ones  and  young 
ones,  and  middle-aged  ones;  ones  with  long  ears, 
short  horns,  double  horns,  and  single  horns;  black 
ones  and  red  ones — in  fact,  all  the  kinds  of  rhinos 
that  are  resident  in  British  East  Africa.  One  had 
an  ear  gone  and  another  had  a  crook  in  his  tail.  If 
we  had  stayed  another  week  we  might  have  got  out 
a  Tana  River  Rhino  Directory,  with  addresses  and 
tree  numbers.  We  studied  them  fore  and  aft,  from 
in  front  of  trees  and  from  behind  them,  from  close 

105 


106  IN    AFRICA 

range  and  long  range,  over  our  shoulders,  and 
through  our  cameras,  every  way  whereby  a  con- 
scientious lover  of  life  and  nature  can  study  a 
prominent  member  of  the  Mammalia.  We  called 
the  place  Rhino  Park  because  the  country  looks  like 
a  beautiful  park  studded  with  splendid  trees  and 
dotted  with  rhinos. 

When  I  went  to  Africa  I  was  equipped  with  the 
following  fund  of  knowledge  concerning  the  rhi- 


A  Morning  Walk  on  the  Tana  River 

noceros :  First,  that  he  is  familiarly  called  "rhino" 
by  the  daring  hunters  who  have  written  about  him ; 
second,  that  he  is  a  member  of  the  Perissodactyl 
family,  whose  sole  representatives  are  the  horse, 
the  rhino,  and  the  tapir;  third,  that  he  savagely 
charges  human  beings  who  write  books  about  their 
thrilling  adventures  in  Africa,  and,  finally,  that  he 
looks  like  a  hang-over  from  the  pterodactyl  age. 
The  books  and  magazine  stories  that  have  come  out 
since  Mr.  Roosevelt  made  African  hunting  the 


A   Comfortable   Hammock  of  Zebra  Skin 


Mrs.  Akelev  and  Her  Tana  River  Monkey 


THE    HOME    OF    THE    RHINO  107 

vogue  invariably  describe  the  rhino  as  being  one  of 
the  most  dangerous  of  African  animals.  A  charg- 
ing rhino,  a  wounded  lion,  a  cape  buffalo,  and  a 
frenzied  elephant  are  the  four  terrors  of  the  Afri- 
can hunters.  All  other  forms  of  danger  are  slight 
compared  with  these,  and  I  was  full  to  the  guards 
\vith  a  vast  and  fearful  respect  for  the  rhino.  I 
fancied  myself  spinning  around  like  a  pinwheel 
with  the  horn  of  a  rhino  as  a  pivot,  and  the  thought 
had  little  to  commend  itself  to  a  lover  of  longevity 
— such  as  myself,  for  instance. 

After  going  to  Africa  and  meeting  some  of  the 
best  members  of  the  rhino  set  I  was  able  to  form 
some  conclusions  of  my  own,  chief  of  which  is  the 
belief  that  he  is  dangerous  only  if  he  hits  you.  As 
long  as  you  can  keep  out  of  his  reach  you  are  in  no 
great  danger  except  from  the  thorns. 

The  prevailing  estimate  of  the  rhino  is  that  he  is 
an  inoffensive  creature  who  likes  to  bask  under  the 
shade  of  a  tree  and  watch  the  years  go  parading  by. 
His  thick  skin  and  fierce  armament  of  horns  seem 
to  make  of  him  a  relic  of  some  long- forgotten  age 
— the  last  survivor  of  the  time  when  mammoths  and 
dinosauruses  roamed  the  manless  waste  and  time 
was  counted  in  geological  terms  instead  of  days  and 
minutes.  His  eyes  are  dimmed  and  he  sees  nothing 
beyond  a  few  yards  away,  but  his  hearing  and  sense 
of  smell  are  keen,  and  he  sniffs  danger  from  afar 
in  case  danger  happens  to  be  to  windward  of  him. 
His  sensitive  nose  is  always  alert  for  foreign  and, 
therefore,  suspicious  odors,  and  when  he  smells  the 


108  IN    AFRICA 

blood  of  an  Englishman,  or  even  an  American,  his 
tail  goes  up  in  anger,  he  sniffs  and  snorts  and  races 
around  in  a  circle  while  he  locates  the  direction 
where  the  danger  lies — and  then,  look  out.  A  blind, 
furious  rush  which  only  a  well-sped  bullet  can  pre- 
vent causing  the  untimely  end  of  whatever  hap- 
pens to  be  in  the  way.  That  is  the  popular  estimate 
of  the  rhino. 


Popular  Conception  of  Rhino 

Here  are  some  of  the  conclusions  I  have  formed : 
If  the  hunter  carefully  approaches  the  rhino 
from  the  leeward  he  may  often  come  within  a  few 
yards  of  the  animal  and  might  easily  shoot  him  in  a 
leisurely  way.  The  rhino  can  see  only  at  close  range 
and  can  smell  only  when  the  wind  blows  the  scent 
to  him.  Consequently  he  would  be  defenseless  and 
at  the  mercy  of  the  hunter  if  it  were  not  for  one 
thing.  Nature,  in  her  wisdom,  has  sent  the  little 


THE    HOME    OF    THE    RHINO 


109 


rhino  bird  to  act  as  a  sentinel  for  the  great  pachy- 
derm.   These  little  birds  live  on  the  back  of  the 


Before  and  After  the  Rhino  Birds  Give  the  Alarm 

rhino  and,  as  recompense  for  their  vigilance,  are 
permitted  to  partake  of  such  ticks  and  insects  as  in- 
habit the  hide  of  their  host.  Whenever  danger,  or» 


110  IN    AFRICA 

in  other  words,  whenever  a  hunter  tries  to  approach 
their  own  particular  rhino  from  any  direction,  wind- 
ward, leeward,  or  any  other  way,  the  ever  alert  and 
watchful  rhino  birds  sound  a  tocsin  of  warning. 
The  rhino  pricks  up  his  ears  and  begins  to  show 
signs  of  taking  notice.  He  doesn't  know  where  or 
what  the  danger  may  be,  but  he  knows  the  C.  Q.  D. 
code  of  danger  signals  as  delivered  to  him  from  the 
outposts  on  his  back  and  hastens  to  get  busy  in  an 
effort  to  locate  the  foe.  As  a  general  thing  the  lit- 
tle birds,  on  sight  of  danger,  begin  a  wild  chatter, 
rising  from  the  back  of  the  rhino  and  flying  in  an 
opposite  direction  from  the  danger.  Then  they  re- 
turn, light  on  the  rhino's  back,  and  repeat,  often 
several  times,  the  operation  of  flying  away  from 
the  danger.  If  the  rhino  is  a  wise  rhino  he  learns 
from  the  birds  which  is  the  safe  way  to  go  and  soon 
trots  swiftly  off.  In  a  measure  the  habits  of  the 
rhino  bird  are  as  interesting  as  those  of  the  rhino 
itself,  and  as  an  example  of  the  weak  protecting 
the  strong,  the  Damon  and  Pythias  relationship 
between  bird  and  beast  is  without  parallel  in  the  ani- 
mal kingdom. 

The  rhino  is  a  peaceful  animal.  He  browses  on 
herbs  and  shrubs  and  dwells  in  friendly  relation- 
ship with  the  rest  of  the  animal  kingdom.  Perhaps 
once  or  twice  a  day  he  ambles  down  to  some  favorite 
drinking  place  for  a  drink,  but  the  rest  of  the  time 
he  grazes  along  a  hillside  or  stands  or  lies  sleepily 
under  a  tree.  At  such  times  as  the  latter  he  may  be 
approached  quite  near  without  much  danger.  Each 


The   Ford   of  Tana  River 


The  Baby  Rhino 


THE    HOME    OF    THE    RHINO  111 

day  he  also  goes  to  a  favorite  wallowing  place, 
where  he  rolls  in  the  red  dirt  and  emerges  from  this 
dirt  bath  a  dull  red  rhino.  In  the  rhino  country 
dozens  of  these  red  dirt  rolling  places  may  be 
found,  each  one  trampled  smooth  for  an  area  of 
fifteen  or  twenty  feet  in  evidence  of  the  great 
number  of  times  it  has  been  used  by  one  or  more 
rhinos.  This  dirt  bath  is  a  defensive  measure 
against  the  hordes  of  ticks  that  infest  the  rhino.  It 
is  a  subject  for  wonder  that  the  six  or  eight  tick 
birds  do  not  keep  the  rhino  free  of  ticks,  and  it  has 
even  been  argued  by  some  naturalists  that  the  rhino 
bird  does  not  eat  ticks,  but  merely  uses  the  rhino  as 
a  convenient  resting-place.  Also  perhaps  they  en- 
joy the  ride.  We  had  planned  to  get  a  rhino  bird 
and  perform  an  autopsy  on  him  in  order  to  analyze 
his  contents,  but  did  not  do  so. 

After  the  rhino  has  taken  his  dirt  wallow,  and 
looks  fine  in  his  new  red  coat,  he  then  slowly  and 
painstakingly  proceeds  to  kill  time  during  the  rest 
of  the  day.  If  danger  threatens  he  becomes  exceed- 
ingly nervous  and  excited.  His  anxiety  is  quite 
acute.  In  vain  he  tries  to  locate  the  danger,  rushing 
one  way  for  a  few  yards,  then  the  other  way,  and 
finally  all  ways  at  once.  His  tail  is  up  and  he  is 
snorting  like  a  steam  engine.  When  he  rushes 
toward  you  in  this  attitude  it  looks  very  much  as 
though  he  were  charging  you  with  the  purpose  of 
trampling  you  to  flinders.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  or, 
rather,  opinion,  he  is  merely  trying  to  locate  where 
you  are  in  order  that  he  may  run  the  other  way.  He 


112  IN    AFRICA 

looks  terrifying,  but  in  reality  is  probably  badly 
terrified  himself.  He  would  give  a  good  deal  to 
know  which  way  to  run,  and  finally  becomes  so  ex- 
cited and  nervous  that  he  starts  frantically  in  some 
direction,  hoping  for  the  best.  If  this  rush  happens 
to  be  in  your  direction  you  call  it  a  charge  from  an 
infuriated  rhino;  if  not,  you  say  that  he  looked 
nasty  and  was  about  to  charge,  but  finally  ran  away 
in  another  direction.  In  most  rhino  charges  it  is 


Ae4/ fifteen— 

Trying  to  Provoke  a  Charge 

my  opinion  that  the  rhino  is  too  rattled  to  know 
what  he  is  doing,  and,  instead  of  charging  mali- 
ciously, he  is  merely  trying  to  get  away  as  fast  as 
possible.  And  in  such  cases  the  hunter  blazes  away 
at  him,  wounds  him,  and  the  rhino  blindly  charges 
the  flash. 

It  was  our  wish  to  get  moving  pictures  of  a  rhino 
charge.  Mr.  Akeley  had  a  machine  and  our  plan 
of  action  was  simple.  We  would  first  locate  the 
rhino,  usually  somnolent  under  a  thorn  tree  or 
browsing  soberly  out  in  the  open.  We  would  then 


THE    HOME    OF    THE    RHINO  113 

get  to  the  leeward  of  him  and  slowly  advance  the 
machine;  Mr.  Akeley  in  the  middle  and  Stephen- 
son  and  I  on  each  side  with  our  double-barreled  cor- 
dite rifles.  In  case  the  charge  became  too  serious  to 
escape  we  hoped  to  be  able  to  turn  him  or  kill  the 
rhino  with  our  four  bullets.  If  we  were  unsuccess- 
ful in  doing  so — well,  we  had  to  manage  the  situa- 
tion by  jumping. 

Our  first  experience  was  most  thrilling,  chiefly  be- 
cause we  expected  a  charge.  We  thought  all  rhinos 
charged,  as  per  the  magazine  articles,  and  so  pre- 
pared for  busy  doings.  A  rhino  cow  and  half- 
grown  calf  were  discovered  on  a  distant  hillside. 
We  stopped  in  a  ravine  to  adjust  the  picture  ma- 
chine and  then  crept  cautiously  up  the  hill  until  we 
were  within  about  seventy  yards  of  the  unsuspect- 
ing pair.  Then  the  rhino  birds  began  to  flutter  and 
chatter  and  the  two  beasts  began  to  sniff  nervously. 
Finally  they  turned  toward  us,  with  tails  erect  and 
noses  sniffing  savagely.  Now  for  the  charge,  we 
thought,  for  it  was  considered  an  absolute  certainty 
that  a  rhino  cow  accompanied  by  its  calf  would  al- 
ways attack.  We  moved  forward  a  few  yards, 
clapped  our  hands  to  show  where  we  were,  and  their 
attitude  at  once  became  more  threatening.  They 
rushed  backward  and  forward  a  couple  of  times 
and  faced  us  again. 

By  this  time  we  knew  that  they  saw  us  and  our 
fingers  were  within  the  trigger  guards.  It  was 
agreed  that,  if  they  charged,  they  should  be  allowed 
to  come  within  forty  feet  before  we  fired,  thus 


114  IN    AFRICA 

giving  the  picture  machine  time  to  get  a  good  rec- 
ord. The  situation  was  intense  beyond  description, 
and  seconds  seemed  hours.  When  they  started  trot- 
ting toward  us  we  thought  the  fatal  moment  had 
come,  but  instead  of  continuing  the  "charge,"  they 
swung  around  and  trotted  swiftly  off  in  an  oppo- 
site direction.  As  far  as  we  could  see  them  they 
trotted  swiftly  and  with  the  lightness  of  deer,  some- 
times zigzagging  their  course,  but  always  away 
from  us.  The  charge  had  failed  in  spite  of  all  our 
efforts  to  provoke  it.  The  whistling  and  hand-clap- 
ping which  we  had  hoped  would  give  them  our  lo- 
cation without  doubt  had  merely  served  to  tell  them 
the  way  not  to  go. 

The  moving  picture  record  of  a  "charging 
rhino"  would  have  been  a  brilliant  success  but  for 
one  thing — the  rhino  refused  to  charge. 

During  the  following  ten  days  we  made  many 
similar  attempts  to  get  a  charge  and  always  with 
nearly  the  same  results.  Once  or  twice  we  got 
within  thirty  yards  before  they  finally  turned  tail 
after  a  number  of  feints  that  looked  much  like  the 
beginning  of  a  nasty  charge.  It  was  always  in- 
tensely thrilling  work  because  there  was  the  likeli- 
hood that  we  might  get  a  charge  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  a  dozen  or  so  previous  experiences  had  failed 
to  precipitate  one. 

In  several  cases  the  first  rush  of  the  rhino  was 
toward  us,  but  instead  of  continuing,  he  would  soon 
swing  about  and  make  off,  four  times  as  badly 
scared  as  we  were.  It  seemed  as  though  these  pre- 


THE    HOME    OF    THE    RHINO  115 

liminary  rushes  toward  us  were  efforts  to  verify  the 
location  of  danger  in  order  to  determine  the  right 
direction  for  escape.  In  all,  we  made  between  fif- 
teen and  twenty  different  attempts  on  different 
rhinos  to  get  a  charge,  but  with  always  practically 
the  same  result,  yet  with  always  the  same  thrill  of 
excitement  and  uncertainty. 

Comprehensive  statistics  on  a  rhino's  charges  are 
hard  to  obtain.  The  district  commissioner  at  Embo 
told  me  that  he  had  been  ordered  to  reduce  the  num- 
ber of  rhinos  in  his  district  in  the  interest  of  public 


The  End  of  the  Charge 

safety  and  that  he  had  killed  thirty-five  in  all.  Out 
of  this  number  five  charged  him.  That  would  indi- 
cate that  one  rhino  in  seven  will  charge.  Captain 
Dickinson,  in  his  book,  Big  Game  Shooting  on  the 
Equator,  tells  of  a  rhino  that  charged  him  so 
viciously  that  he  threw  down  his  bedding  roll  and 
the  rhino  tossed  it  and  trampled  it  with  great  em- 
phasis, after  which  it  triumphantly  trotted  away, 
elated  probably  in  the  thought  that  it  had  wiped 
out  its  enemy.  A  number  of  fatalities  are  on  rec- 
ord to  prove  that  the  rhino  is  a  dangerous  beast  at 
times,  and  so  I  must  conclude  that  the  rhino  experi- 


116  IN    AFRICA 

ences  we  had  were  exceedingly  lucky  ones,  and  per- 
haps exceptional  ones  in  that  respect. 

In  only  one  instance  was  it  necessary  for  us  to 
kill  a  rhino  and  even  then  it  was  done  more  in  the 
interest  of  photography  than  of  urgent  necessity. 
On  our  game  licenses  we  were  each  allowed  to  kill 
two  rhinos,  and  as  I  wanted  one  of  the  Tana  River 
variety  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  try  to  get  the 
first  big  one  with  good  horns.  After  a  hunt  of  sev- 
eral hours  we  found  two  of  them  together  out  on 
the  slope  of  a  long  hill.  Our  glasses  showed  that 
one  of  them  was  quite  large  and  equipped  with  a 
splendid  front  horn  nearly  two  feet  long  and  a 
rear  horn  about  a  foot  long.  At  the  lower  slope  of 
the  hill  were  two  or  three  trees  that  screened  our 
approach  so  that  we  were  easily  enabled  to  get  with- 
in about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  them  with- 
out danger  of  discovery.  From  the  trees  onward 
the  country  was  an  open  prairie  for  two  or  three 
miles. 

Armed  with  a  double-barreled  cordite  rifle  and 
the  comforting  reflection  that  the  chances  were 
seven  to  one  that  the  rhinos  would  not  charge,  I 
slowly  advanced  alone  toward  the  two  rhinos.  Be- 
hind me  about  fifty  yards  was  the  long  range  cam- 
era and  a  second  gun  manned  by  Mr.  Stephenson. 
When  fifty  yards  from  the  rhinos  I  stopped,  but 
as  no  offensive  tactics  were  apparent  in  the  camp 
of  the  enemy,  I  slowly  walked  forward  to  thirty- 
five  yards.  Then  they  saw  me.  They  faced  me  with 
what  seemed  like  an  attitude  of  decided  unfriendli- 


THE    HOME    OF    THE    RHINO  117 

ness.  Their  tails  were  up  and  they  were  snorting 
like  steam  engines.  When  the  big  one  started 
toward  me  I  fired  and  it  fell  like  a  log.  The  other 
one,  instead  of  thundering  away,  according  to  ex- 
pectations, became  more  belligerent.  It  ran  a  few 
steps,  then  swung  around,  and  I  felt  certain  that  it 
was  going  to  avenge  the  death  of  its  comrade.  The 
camera  brigade  rushed  forward,  clapping  their 
hands  to  scare  it  away,  as  there  was  no  desire  to  kill 
both  of  the  animals.  But  it  refused  to  go.  It  would 
sometimes  run  a  few  steps,  then  it  would  turn 
and  come  toward  us.  It  was  evidently  in  a  fighting 
mood,  with  no  intention  of  deserting  the  field  of 
action.  Finally  by  firing  shots  in  the  air  and  yell- 
ing noisily  it  turned  and  dashed  over  the  side  of 
the  hill.  The  photograph,  taken  at  the  instant  the 
big  rhino  was  struck,  was  remarkably  dramatic  and 
showed  one  rhino  in  an  aggressive  attitude  and  the 
other  just  plunging  down  from  the  shot  of  the  big 
bullet. 

The  front  horn  of  the  dead  rhino  was  twenty  and 
three-quarters  inches  long  and  in  many  places  the 
animal's  hide  was  over  an  inch  thick.  Strips  of  this 
were  cut  off  to  make  whips,  and  a  large  section  was 
removed  to  be  made  into  a  table  top.  These  table 
tops,  polished  and  rendered  translucent  by  the  cur- 
ing processes,  are  beautiful  as  well  as  extremely  in- 
teresting. The  rhino's  tongue  is  even  more  delicious 
to  eat  than  ox  tongue  and  rhino  tail  soup  is  a  great 
luxury  on  any  white  man's  table;  while  the  native 
porters  consider  rhino  meat  the  finest  of  any  meat  to 


118 


IN    AFRICA 


be  had  in  Africa.  The  conscience  of  one  who  slays 
a  rhino  is  somewhat  appeased  by  the  fact  that  a 
hundred  native  porters  will  have  a  good  square 
meal  of  wholesome  meat  to  help  build  up  their  sys- 
tems. 

Our  expedition  sustained  only  one  real  rhino 
charge.  One  day  Mr.  Stephenson  stumbled  on  a 
big  cow  rhino  that  was  lying  in  the  grass.  The 


A  Real  Rhino  Charge 

meeting  was  as  unexpected  to  him  as  to  her,  and 
before  he  could  count  five  she  was  rushing  headlong 
toward  him.  He  clapped  his  hands,  whistled,  and 
shouted  to  turn  her  course,  but  she  came  on,  snort- 
ing loudly  and  with  head  ready  to  impale  every- 
thing in  its  way.  Stephenson  did  not  want  to  kill 
her,  neither  did  he  desire  to  be  killed,  so  when  all 
other  means  had  failed  he  fired  a  soft  nose  bullet 
into  her  shoulder  in  the  hope  that  it  would  turn  her 


The  Sultan   looked   Like  an   American   Indian 


In  the  Thorn  Brush  on  the  Tana 


The   Dummy   Rhino 


THE    HOME    OF    THE    RHINO  119 

away  without  seriously  hurting  her.  The  bullet 
seemed  to  have  no  effect  and  she  did  not  change  her 
course  in  the  slightest  degree.  By  this  time  she  was 
within  a  short  distance  of  Stephenson,  who  was 
obliged  to  run  a  few  feet  and  take  refuge  behind 
a  tree. 

The  gunbearers  and  porters,  who  had  fled  in  all 
directions,  thought  that  Stephenson  was  caught, 
but  the  rhino,  passing  him  with  only  a  small  mar- 
gin of  five  feet,  continued  thunderously  on  her 
way.  In  a  few  yards  she  slowed  down,  and  when 
last  seen  was  walking.  She  had  evidently  been  hit 
very  hard  by  the  soft  nose  bullet  and  was  already 
showing  signs  of  sickness.  Suddenly  a  terrific 
squealing  made  the  party  aware  that  the  cow  rhino 
had  been  accompanied  by  a  little  rhino  calf.  The 
calf,  only  a  couple  of  weeks  old,  charged  savagely 
at  every  one  in  sight  and  every  one  in  sight  took 
refuge  behind  trees  and  bushes.  Instead  of  trying 
to  escape,  the  animal  turned  and  continued  to  attack 
in  all  directions  whenever  a  man  showed  himself. 
When  a  man  leaped  behind  a  tree  the  calf  would 
charge  the  tree  with  such  force  that  it  would  be 
hurled  back  several  feet,  only  to  spring  up  and 
charge  again.  His  squealing  could  be  heard  for  a 
mile.  After  a  long  time  the  porters  succeeded  in 
capturing  it  and  they  conveyed  it  back  to  camp 
strung  on  a  pole.  If  that  little  rhino  was  any  cri- 
terion of  rhino  pugnacity,  then  surely  the  rhino  is 
born  with  the  instinctive  impulse  to  charge  and  to 
fight  as  savagely  as  any  animal  alive. 


120 


IN    AFRICA 


We  fed  our  little  pet  rhino  on  milk  and  then 
swung  it  in  a  comfortable  hammock  made  of  zebra 
skin.  In  this  more  or  less  undignified  fashion  it  was 
carried  by  eight  strong  porters  to  Fort  Hall,  two 
marches  away,  where  it  lived  only  a  week  or  ten  days 
and  then,  to  our  sorrow  and  regret,  succumbed  from 
lack  of  proper  nourishment. 

Sometimes,  when  the  safari  is  marching  through 


Retiring  in  Favor  of  Rhino 

bush  country,  the  rhino  becomes  an  element  of  con- 
siderable anxiety.  An  armed  party  must  precede 
the  caravan  and  clear  the  route  of  rhinos,  otherwise 
the  porters  are  likely  to  be  scattered  by  threatened 
charges.  It  is  no  uncommon  sight  to  see  a  crowd  of 
heavily  laden  porters  drop  their  loads  and  shin  up 
the  nearest  tree  in  record  time.  Consequently, 
strong  protective  measures  are  always  demanded 
when  a  long  train  of  unarmed  natives  is  moving 


THE    HOME    OF    THE    RHINO 


121 


through  bush  or  scrub  country  where  there  are  many 
rhinos. 

The  lower  Tana  River  country  is  admirably 
adapted  to  the  life  habits  of  the  rhinos.  Formerly 
the  district  was  well  settled  by  natives,  but  now, 
owing  to  the  fever  conditions  prevailing  there,  the 
natives  have  all  moved  away  to  more  wholesome 
places  and  only  the  forlorn  remains  of  deserted 
villages  mark  where  former  prosperity  reigned. 


Favorite  Way  of  Being  Photographed 

The  country  has  been  abandoned  to  game,  with  the 
result  that  it  has  been  enormously  increasing  dur- 
ing the  last  few  years.  In  addition  to  the  great 
numbers  of  rhinos  there  are  big  herds  of  buffalo, 
enormous  numbers  of  hippo  in  the  river,  and  many 
small  droves  of  eland.  Waterbuck,  bushbuck, 
steinbuck,  impalla,  hartebeest  and  zebra  dwell  in 
comparative  immunity  from  danger  and  may  be 
seen  in  hundreds,  grazing  on  the  hills  or  in  the 
woods  that  fringe  the  river.  It  is  a  sportsman's 


122  IN    AFRICA 

paradise,  if  he  manages  to  escape  the  fever,  and  we 
enjoyed  it  tremendously,  even  though  we  shot  only 
a  hundredth  part  of  what  we  might  easily  have  shot. 
The  charm  of  hunting  in  such  a  region  lies  in  what 
one  sees  rather  than  in  what  one  kills. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MEETING    COLONEL   ROOSEVELT   IN    THE   UTTERMOST 

OUTPOST  OF   SEMI-CIVILIZATION.     HE  TALKS  OF 

MANY  THINGS,  HEARS  THAT  HE  HAS  BEEN 

REPORTED  DEAD,  AND  PROMPTLY  PLANS 

AN  ELEPHANT  HUNT 

AFTER  one  has  been  in  British  East  Africa  two 
months  he  begins  to  readjust  his  preconceived 
ideas  to  fit  real  conditions.  He  discovers  that  noth- 
ing is  really  as  bad  as  he  feared  it  would  be,  and 
that  distance,  as  usual,  has  magnified  the  terrors 
of  a  far-away  land.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  is 
in  the  heart  of  a  primitive  country,  surrounded  by 
native  tribes  that  still  are  mystified  by  a  glass  mir- 
ror, and  perhaps  many  days'  march  from  the  near- 
est white  person,  he  still  may  feel  that  he  is  in 
touch  with  the  great  world  outside.  His  mail 
reaches  him  somehow  or  other,  even  if  he  is  in  the 
center  of  some  vast  unsettled  district  devoid  of 
roads  or  trails. 

How  it  is  done  is  a  mystery ;  but  the  fact  remains 
that  every  once  in  a  while  a  black  man  appears  as 
by  magic  and  hands  one  a  package  containing  let- 
ters and  telegrams.  He  is  a  native  "runner,"  whose 
business  it  is  to  find  you  wherever  you  may  be,  and 
he  does  it,  no  matter  how  long  it  may  take  him.  A 

123 


In  the  Forest 


telegram  addressed  to  any  sportsman  in  East  Af- 
rica would  reach  him  if  only  addressed  with  his 
name  and  the  words  "British  East  Africa."  There 
are  only  four  or  five  thousand  white  residents  in 


MEETING    COLONEL    ROOSEVELT  125 

the  whole  protectorate,  and  the  names  of  these  are 
duly  catalogued  and  known  to  the  post-office  offi- 
cials both  in  Mombasa  and  Nairobi. 

If  a  strange  name  appears  on  a  letter  or  des- 
patch, inquiries  are  made  and  the  identity  of  the 
stranger  is  quickly  established.  If  he  is  a  sports- 
man, the  outfitters  in  Nairobi  will  know  who  he  is. 
They  will  have  equipped  him  with  porters  and  the 
other  essentials  of  a  caravan,  and  they  will  know 
exactly  in  which  section  of  the  protectorate  he  is 
hunting.  So  the  letter  is  readdressed  in  care  of  the 
boma,  or  government  station,  nearest  to  that  sec- 
tion. The  letter  duly  arrives  at  the  bomaf  and  a 
native  runner  is  told  to  go  out  and  deliver  the  mes- 
sage. He  starts  off,  and  by  inquiry  of  other  natives 
and  by  relying  on  a  natural  instinct  that  is  little 
short  of  marvelous  he  ultimately  finds  the  object  of 
his  search  and  delivers  his  message. 

If  you  look  at  a  map  of  British  East  Africa  you 
will  be  amazed  at  the  number  of  names  that  are 
marked  upon  it.  You  would  quite  naturally  think 
that  the  country  was  rather  thickly  settled,  where- 
as in  fact  there  are  very  few  places  of  settlement 
away  from  the  single  line  of  railroad  that  runs 
from  Mombasa  to  Victoria  Nyanza.  The  protec- 
torate is  divided  into  subdistricts,  each  one  of  which 
has  a  capital,  or  boma,  as  it  is  called.  This  boma 
usually  consists  of  a  white  man's  residence,  a  little 
post-office,  one  or  two  Indian  stores  wrhere  all  the 
necessities  of  a  simple  life  may  be  procured,  and  a 
number  of  native  grass  huts.  There  is  usually  a 


126  IN    AFRICA 

small  detachment  of  askaris,  or  native  soldiers,  who 
are  necessary  to  enforce  the  law,  repress  any  native 
uprising,  and  collect  the  hut  tax  of  one  dollar  a  year 
that  is  imposed  upon  each  household  in  the  district. 

Other  names  on  the  map  may  look  important, 
but  will  prove  to  be  only  streams,  or  hills,  or  some 
landmarks  that  have  been  used  by  the  surveyors  to 
signify  certain  places.  In  our  five  weeks'  trip 
through  Trans-Tanaland  we  found  only  two  bomaSj 
Fort  Hall  and  Embo,  and  three  or  four  ranches 
where  one  or  more  white  men  lived.  In  our  expe- 
dition to  Mount  Elgon  we  encountered  only  two 
places  where  the  mark  of  civilization  showed — El- 
doma  Ravine  and  Sergoi.  In  the  former  place  the 
only  white  man  was  the  subcommissioner,  and  in  the 
latter  there  was  one  policeman,  and  a  general  store 
kept  by  a  South  African.  A  number  of  Boer  set- 
tlers are  scattered  over  the  plateau,  trying  to  re- 
claim little  sections  of  land  from  its  primitive  state. 

Between  Sergoi  and  Londiani,  on  the  railroad, 
ninety  miles  south,  there  is  one  little  store  where 
caravans  may  buy  food  for  porters  and  some  of 
the  simpler  necessities  that  white  men  may  require. 
All  the  rest  of  the  country  for  thousands  of  square 
miles  is  given  up  to  the  lion  and  zebra  and  the  vast 
herds  of  antelope  that  feed  upon  the  rich  grass  of 
the  plateau. 

Yet  in  spite  of  the  sparsity  of  settlement  the  na- 
tive runner  manages  to  find  you,  even  after  days 
of  traveling,  without  compass  or  directions  to  aid 
him. 


An    Askari    Who    Looked    Like   a    Tragedian 


Mr.  Akeley 


MEETING    COLONEL    ROOSEVELT  127 

Hunters  who  come  to  East  Africa  usually  are 
sent  to  certain  districts  where  game  is  known  to  be 
abundant.  These  districts  are  well  defined  and  oft- 
entimes there  may  be  a  number  of  safaris  in  them 
at  the  same  time,  but  so  large  are  the  districts  that 
one  group  of  hunters  very  rarely  encroaches  upon 
the  others. 

Some  parties  are  sent  to  Mount  Kilima-Njaro,  in 
the  vicinity  of  which  there  is  good  hunting.  Others 
are  sent  out  from  points  along  the  railroad  for  cer- 
tain classes  of  game  that  may  be  found  only  in 
those  spots.  Simba,  on  the  railroad,  is  a  favorite 
place  for  those  who  are  after  the  yellow-maned  or 
"plains"  lion.  Muhorini,  also  on  the  railroad,  is  a 
favorite  place  for  those  who  want  the  roan  antelope ; 
Naivasha  is  a  good  place  for  hippo,  and  south  of 
Kijabe,  in  what  is  called  the  Sotik,  is  a  district 
where  nearly  all  sorts  of  game  abound.  The  Tana 
River  is  a  favorite  place  for  rhino,  .buffalo,  nearly 
all  sorts  of  antelope,  and  some  lion;  Mount  Kenia 
is  an  elephant  hunting  ground,  and  the  Aberdare 
Range,  between  Kenia  and  Naivasha,  also  is  good 
for  elephant.  North  of  Kenia  is  the  Guas  Nyiro 
River,  a  rich  district  for  game  of  many  kinds.  And 
so  the  country  is  divided  up  into  sections  that  are 
sure  to  attract  many  sporting  parties  who  desire 
certain  kinds  of  game. 

Our  first  expedition  out  from  Nairobi  was  across 
the  Athi  Plains  to  the  Tana  River  and  Mount 
Kenia,  a  wonderful  trip  for  those  who  are  willing  to 
take  chances  with  the  fever  down  the  Tana  River. 


128  IN    AFRICA 

In  five  weeks  we  saw  lion,  rhino,  buffalo,  and  ele- 
phant— the  four  groups  of  animals  that  are  called 
"royal  game";  also  hippo,  giraffe,  eland,  wildebeest, 
and  many  varieties  of  smaller  game.  It  is  doubtful 
whether  there  is  any  other  section  of  East  Africa 
where  one  could  have  a  chance  for  so  many  differ- 
ent species  of  game  in  such  a  short  time  as  the  Tana 
River  country. 

For  our  second  expedition  we  selected  the  Guas 
Xgishu  Plateau,  the  Nzoia  River,  and  Mount  El- 
gon.  It  is  a  long  trip  which  involves  elaborate  prep- 
aration and  some  difficulty  in  keeping  up  supplies 
for  the  camp  and  the  porters.  It  is  the  most  prom- 
ising place,  however,  for  black-maned  lion  and  ele- 
phant, and  on  account  of  these  two  capital  prizes 
in  the  lottery  of  big  game  hunting  occasional  par- 
ties are  willing  to  venture  the  time  and  expense 
necessary  to  reach  this  district. 

We  disembarked,  or  "detrained,"  as  they  say 
down  there,  at  a  little  station  on  the  railroad  called 
Londiani,  eight  miles  south  of  the  equator  and 
about  eighty  miles  from  Victoria  Nyanza.  Then 
with  two  transport  wagons  drawn  by  thirty  oxen, 
our  horses  for  "galloping"  lions,  and  one  hundred 
porters,  we  marched  north,  always  at  an  altitude  of 
from  seventy-five  hundred  to  ninety-two  hundred 
feet,  through  vast  forests  that  stretched  for  miles 
on  all  sides.  The  country  was  beautiful  beyond 
words — clean,  wholesome,  and  vast.  In  many  places 
the  scenery  was  as  trim  and  apparently  as  finished 
as  sections  of  the  wooded  hills  and  meadows  of 


MEETING    COLONEL    ROOSEVELT  129 

Surrey.  One  might  easily  imagine  oneself  in  a 
great  private  estate  where  landscape  gardeners  had 
worked  for  years. 

At  night  the  cold  was  keen  and  four  blankets 
were  necessary  the  night  we  camped  two  miles  from 
the  equator.  In  the  day  the  sun  was  hot  in  the  mid- 
day hours,  but  never  unpleasantly  so.  After  two 


One  of  the  Transport  Wagons 

days  of  marching  through  forests  and  across  great 
grassy  folds  in  the  earth  we  reached  Eldoma  Ra- 
vine, a  subcommissioner's  boma  that  looks  for  all 
the  world  like  a  mountain  health  resort.  From  the 
hill  upon  which  the  station  is  situated  one  may  look 
across  the  Great  Rift  Valley,  two  thousand  feet  be- 
low, and  stretching  away  for  miles  across,  like  a 
Grand  Canon  of  Arizona  without  any  mountains 
in  it.  Strong  stone  walls  protect  the  white  resi- 


130  IN    AFRICA 

dence,  for  this  is  a  section  of  the  country  that  has 
suffered  much  from  native  uprisings  during  the  last 
few  years.  We  called  on  the  solitary  white  resident 
one  evening,  and,  true  to  the  creed  of  the  Briton,  he 
had  dressed  for  dinner.  The  sight  of  a  man  in  a 
dinner-coat  miles  from  a  white  man  and  leagues 
from  a  white  woman  was  something  to  remember 
and  marvel  at. 

Northward  from  Eldoma  Ravine  for  days  we 
marched,  sometimes  in  dense  forests  so  thick  that 
a  man  could  scarcely  force  himself  through  the 
undergrowth  that  flanked  the  trail,  and  sometimes 
through  upland  meadows  so  deep  in  tall  yellow 
grass  as  to  suggest  a  field  of  waving  grain,  then 
through  miles  of  country  studded  with  the  gnarled 
thorn  tree  that  looks  so  much  like  our  apple  trees 
at  home.  It  was  as  though  we  were  traversing  an 
endless  orchard,  clean,  beautiful,  and  exhilarating 
in  the  cool  winds  of  the  African  highlands.  And 
then,  all  suddenly,  we  came  to  the  end  of  the  trees, 
and  before  us,  like  a  great,  heaving  yellow  sea,  lay 
the  Guas  Ngishu  Plateau  that  stretches  northward 
one  hundred  miles  and  always  above  seven  thousand 
feet  in  altitude. 

Far  ahead,  like  a  little  knob  of  blue,  was  Ser- 
goi  Hill,  forty  miles  away,  and  beyond,  in  a  fainter 
blue,  were  the  hills  that  mark  the  limit  of  white 
man's  passport.  On  the  map  that  district  is  marked : 
"Natives  probably  treacherous."  Off  to  the  left, 
a  hundred  miles  away,  the  dim  outline  of  Mount 
Elgon  rose  in  easy  slopes  from  the  horizon.  Elgon, 


MEETING    COLONEL    ROOSEVELT 


131 


with  its  elephants,  was  our  goal,  and  in  between 
were  the  black -maned  lions  that  we  hoped  to  meet. 
It  would  be  hard  to  exaggerate  the  charm  of  this 
climate.  And  yet  this,  one  thought,  was  equatorial 
Africa,  which,  in  the  popular  imagination,  is  sup- 
posed to  be  synonymous  with  torrential  rains, 
malignant  fevers,  and  dense  jungles  of  matted 


A  Night  on  the  Equator 

vegetation.  It  was  more  like  the  friendly  stretches 
of  Colorado  scenery  at  the  time  of  year  when  the 
grasses  of  the  valley  are  dotted  with  flowers  of 
many  colors  and  the  sun  shines  down  upon  you 
with  genial  warmth. 

Each  morning  we  marched  ten  or  twelve  miles 
and  then  went  into  camp  near  some  little  stream. 
In  the  afternoon  we  hunted  for  lions,  beating  out 


132  IN    AFRICA 

swamps,  scouting  every  bit  of  cover  and  combing 
the  tall  grass  for  hours  at  a  time.  Hartebeest,  topi, 
zebra,  eland,  oribi,  reedbuck,  and  small  grass  ante- 
lope were  upon  all  sides  and  at  all  times. 

The  herds  of  zebra  and  hartebeest  literally  num- 
bered thousands,  but,  except  as  the  latter  were 
occasionally  required  for  food  for  the  porters,  we 
seldom  tried  to  shoot  them.  Every  Boer  settler  we 
saw  was  interviewed  and  every  promising  lion  clue 
was  followed  to  the  bitter  end,  but  without  result. 
Sometimes  we  remained  in  one  camp  a  day  or  more 
in  order  to  search  the  lion  retreats  more  thoroughly, 
but  never  a  black-maned  lion  was  routed  from  his 
lair.  A  few  weeks  later,  when  the  dry  grass  had 
been  burned  to  make  way  for  new  grass,  as  is  done 
each  year,  the  chances  would  be  greatly  improved, 
and  we  hoped  for  better  luck  when  we  retraced  our 
steps  from  Elgon  in  December.  Before  that  time 
it  would  be  like  trying  to  find  a  needle  in  a  hay- 
stack to  find  a  lion  in  the  tall  grass,  and  a  good  deal 
more  dangerous  if  we  did  find  one.  There  were  lots 
of  them  there,  but  they  were  taking  excellent  care 
of  themselves.  In  July,  three  months  previous, 
Mr.  McMillan,  Mr.  Selous,  and  Mr.  Williams  were 
in  this  same  district  after  black-maned  lions.  They 
heard  them  every  night,  but  saw  only  one  in  several 
weeks.  This  one,  however,  made  a  distinct  impres- 
sion. Williams  saw  it  one  day  and  wounded  it  at 
two  hundred  yards.  The  lion  charged  and  could 
not  be  stopped  by  Williams'  bullets.  It  was  only 
after  it  had  leaped  on  the  hunter  and  frightfully 


MEETING    COLONEL    ROOSEVELT 


133 


mauled  him  that  the  lion  succumbed  to  its  wounds. 
And  it  was  only  after  months  of  suffering  that 
Williams  finally  recovered  from  the  mauling. 

We  felt  that  if  Frederick  Selous,  the  world's 
greatest  big  game  hunter,  could  not  find  the  lion, 
then  our  chances  were  somewhat  slim. 

There  had  been  few  parties  in  this  district  since 
McMillan's  party  left.  Captain  Ashton  came  in 


Lion  Hunting  in  Tall  Grass 

two  months  before  us,  and  we  met  him  on  his  way 
out.  With  him  was  Captain  Black,  a  professional 
elephant  hunter,  who,  three  years  before,  on  the 
Aberdare,  had  had  a  bad  experience  with  an  ele- 
phant. It  was  a  cow  that  he  had  wounded  but  failed 
to  kill.  She  charged  him  and  knocked  him  down  in 
a  pile  of  very  thick  and  matted  brush.  Three  times 
she  trampled  him  under  her  feet,  but  the  bushes 
served  as  a  kind  of  mattress  and  the  captain  es- 


134  IN    AFRICA 

caped  with  only  a  few  bones  broken;  although  he 
was  laid  up  for  five  weeks.  Ashton  and  Black  did 
not  have  much  luck  in  the  present  trip  and  failed  to 
get  a  single  lion. 

Two  Spaniards  passed  our  camp  one  day,  in- 
ward bound.  They  were  the  Duke  of  Penaranda 
and  Sr.  de  la  Huerta,  and  reported  no  lions  during 
their  few  days  in  the  district.  Prince  Lichtenstein 
was  also  somewhere  on  the  plateau,  but  we  didn't 
run  across  him.  In  addition  to  these  three  parties 
and  ours,  the  only  other  expedition  in  the  Guas 
Ngishu  Plateau  was  Colonel  Roosevelt's  party, 
toward  which,  by  previous  agreement,  we  made  our 
way. 

A  number  of  months  before  Mr.  Akeley,  who 
headed  our  party,  was  dining  with  President  Roose- 
velt at  the  White  House.  In  the  course  of  their  talk, 
which  was  about  Africa  and  Mr.  Akeley's  former 
African  hunting  and  collecting  experiences,  the 
latter  had  told  the  president  about  a  group  of  ele- 
phants that  he  was  going  to  collect  and  mount  for 
the  American  Museum  of  History  in  New  York. 
President  Roosevelt  was  asked  if  he  would  cooper- 
ate in  the  work,  and  he  expressed  a  keen  willingness 
to  do  so.  When  our  party  arrived  at  Nairobi,  in 
September,  a  letter  awaited  Mr.  Akeley,  renewing 
Colonel  Roosevelt's  desire  to  help  in  collecting  the 
group. 

It  was  in  answer  to  this  invitation  that  Mr.  Ake- 
ley and  our  party  had  gone  to  the  Mount  Elgon 
country  to  meet  Mr.  Roosevelt  and  carry  out  the 


Kermit,    Leslie    Tarlton    and  Colonel  Roosevelt 


Winding   Through    Unbroken    Country 


Our   Safari   on  the   March 


MEETING    COLONEL    ROOSEVELT  135 

elephant-hunting  compact  made  many  months  be- 
fore at  the  White  House. 

Eleven  days  of  marching  and  hunting  from  the 
railroad  brought  us  to  Sergoi,  the  very  uttermost 
outpost  of  semi-civilization.  Here  we  found  an- 
other letter  in  which  Mr.  Akeley  was  asked  to  come 
to  the  Roosevelt  camp,  and  which  suggested  that  a 
native  runner  could  pilot  him  to  its  whereabouts. 
The  letter  had  been  written  some  days  before  and 
had  been  for  some  time  at  Sergoi.  Whether  the 
Roosevelt  camp  had  been  moved  in  the  meantime 
could  not  be  determined  at  Sergoi,  and  we  knew 
only  in  a  general  way  that  it  was  probably  some- 
where on  the  Nzoia  River  (pronounced  Enzoya), 
two  or  three  days'  march  west  of  Sergoi,  toward 
Mount  Elgon. 

So  we  started  across,  meeting  no  natives  who  pos- 
sibly could  have  given  any  information.  On  the  aft- 
ernoon of  November  thirteenth  we  went  into  camp 
on  the  edge  of  a  great  swamp,  or  tinga-tinga, 
as  the  natives  call  it,  only  a  couple  of  hours'  march 
from  the  river.  Many  fresh  elephant  trails  had 
been  discovered,  and  the  swamp  itself  looked  like 
a  most  promising  place  for  lions.  A  great  tree 
stood  on  one  side  of  the  swamp,  and  in  its  branches 
was  a  platform  which  an  Englishman  had  occupied 
seven  nights  in  a  vain  quest  for  lions  some  time  be- 
fore. A  little  grass  shelter  was  below  the  tree,  and 
as  we  approached  a  Wanderobo  darted  out  and  ran 
in  terror  from  us.  The  Wanderobos  are  native  hunt- 
ers who  live  in  the  forests,  and  are  as  shy  as  wild  ani- 


136  IN    AFRICA 

mals.  So  we  could  not  question  him  as  to  Colonel 
Roosevelt's  camp.  Later  in  the  afternoon  a  native 
runner  appeared  from  the  direction  of  Sergoi  with 
a  message  to  the  colonel,  but  he  didn't  know  where 
the  camp  was  and  didn't  seem  to  be  in  any  great 
hurry  to  find  out.  He  calmly  made  himself  the 
guest  of  one  of  our  porters  and  spent  the  night  in 
our  camp,  doing  much  more  sitting  than  running. 

On  the  morning  of  the  fourteenth  we  marched 
toward  the  river,  two  hours  away,  the  native  run- 
ner slowly  ambling  along  with  us.  We  had  been 
on  the  trail  about  an  hour  and  a  half  when  a  shot 
was  heard  off  to  our  left.  At  first  we  thought  it 
was  our  Spanish  friends,  but  a  few  moments  later 
we  came  to  a  point  where  we  could  see,  about  a  mile 
away,  a  long  string  of  porters  winding  along  in 
the  direction  from  which  we  came.  It  was  plainly 
a  much  larger  safari  than  the  Spanish  one,  and  we 
at  once  concluded  that  it  was  Colonel  Roosevelt's. 

Three  or  four  men  on  horses  were  visible,  but 
could  not  be  recognized  with  our  glasses.  The 
number  corresponded  to  the  colonel's  party,  how- 
ever, which  we  knew  to  consist  of  himself  and  Ker- 
mit,  Edmund  Heller  and  Leslie  Tarlton.  A  mes- 
senger was  sent  across  the  hills  to  establish  their 
identity  and  we  marched  on  to  the  river,  a  half- 
hour  farther,  where  we  found  the  smoldering  fires 
of  their  camp. 

A  transport  wagon  of  supplies  for  the  Duke  of 
Penaranda's  safari  was  also  there,  and  from  the 
drivers  it  was  definitely  learned  that  the  late  occu- 


MEETING    COLONEL    ROOSEVELT  137 

pants  of  the  camp  were  Mr.  Roosevelt  and  his 
party.  In  the  meantime  the  messenger  had  reached 
Colonel  Roosevelt,  and  when  the  latter  learned  that 
Mr.  Akeley's  safari  was  in  the  vicinity  he  at  once 
ordered  camp  pitched  forty-five  minutes  from  our 
camp,  and  started  across  to  see  Akeley.  The  latter 
had  also  started  across  to  see  the  colonel,  and  they 
met  on  the  way.  And  during  all  this  time  the  na- 
tive runner  with  the  message  to  Colonel  Roosevelt 
was  loafing  the  morning  away  in  our  camp.  What 
the  message  might  be,  of  course,  we  didn't  know, 
but  we  hoped  that  it  was  nothing  of  importance. 
It  was  only  when  the  colonel  and  his  party  reached 
our  camp  that  the  message  was  delivered.  As  we 
stood  talking  and  congratulating  everybody  on 
how  well  he  was  looking  the  colonel  casually  opened 
the  message. 

He  seemed  amused,  and  somewhat  surprised,  and 
at  once  read  it  aloud  to  us.  It  was  from  America, 
and  said:  "Reported  here  you  have  been  killed. 
Mrs.  Roosevelt  worried.  Cable  denial  American 
Embassy,  Rome."  It  was  dated  November  sixth, 
eight  days  before. 

"I  think  I  might  answer  that  by  saying  that  the 
report  is  premature,"  he  said,  laughing,  and  then 
told  the  story  of  a  Texas  man  who  had  commented 
on  a  similar  report  in  the  same  words. 

Colonel  Roosevelt  certainly  didn't  look  dead.  If 
ever  a  man  looked  rugged  and  healthy  and  in  splen- 
did physical  condition  he  certainly  did  on  the  day 
that  this  despatch  reached  him.  His  cheeks  were 


138 


IN    AFRICA 


burned  to  a  ruddy  tan  and  his  eyes  were  as  clear  as 
a  plainsman's.  He  laughed  and  joked  and  com- 
mented on  the  news  that  we  told  him  with  all  the 
enthusiasm  of  one  who  knows  no  physical  cares  or 
worries. 


Reading  the  Report  That  He  Had  Been  Killed 

"If  I  could  have  seen  you  an  hour  and  a  half 
ago,"  he  told  Akeley,  "I  could  have  got  you  the 
elephants  you  want  for  your  group.  We  passed 
within  only  a  few  yards  of  a  herd  of  ten  this  morn- 
ing, and  Kermit  got  within  thirty  yards  to  make 
some  photographs."  They  had  not  shot  any,  how- 


MEETING    COLONEL    ROOSEVELT  139 

ever,  as  they  had  received  no  answer  to  the  letter 
sent  several  days  before  to  Mr.  Akeley  and  conse- 
quently did  not  know  positively  that  his  party  had 
reached  the  plateau. 

The  colonel  asked  about  George  Ade,  com- 
mented vigorously  and  with  prophetic  insight  on 
the  Cook-Peary  controversy,  and  read  aloud,  in  ex- 
cellent dialect,  a  Dooley  article  on  the  subject,  which 
I  had  saved  from  an  old  copy  of  the  Chicago 
Tribune.  He  commented  very  frankly,  with  no 
semblance  at  hypocrisy,  on  Mr.  Harriman's  death, 
told  many  of  his  experiences  in  the  hunting  field, 
and  for  three  hours,  at  lunch  and  afterward,  he 
talked  with  the  freedom  of  one  who  was  glad  to 
see  some  American  friends  in  the  wilderness  and 
who  had  no  objection  to  showing  his  pleasure  at  such 
a  meeting. 

He  talked  about  the  tariff  and  about  many  pub- 
lic men  and  public  questions  with  a  frankness  that 
compels  even  a  newspaper  man  to  regard  as  being 
confidential.  Our  safari  was  the  only  one  he  had 
met  in  the  field  since  he  had  been  in  Africa,  and  it 
was  evident  that  the  efforts  of  the  protectorate 
officials  to  save  him  from  interference  and  intrusion 
had  been  successful. 

Arrangements  were  then  made  for  an  elephant 
hunt.  Colonel  Roosevelt  was  working  on  schedule 
time,  and  had  planned  to  be  in  Sergoi  on  the  seven- 
teenth. He  agreed  to  a  hunt  that  should  cover  the 
fifteenth,  sixteenth,  and  possibly  the  seventeenth, 
trusting  that  they  might  be  successful  in  this  period 


140  IN    AFRICA 

and  that  a  hard  forced  march  could  get  him  to 
Sergoi  on  the  night  of  the  eighteenth. 

It  was  arranged  that  he  and  Mr.  Akeley,  with 
Kermit  and  Tarlton  and  one  tent  should  start  early 
the  next  morning  on  the  hunt,  trusting  to  luck  in 
overtaking  the  herd  that  he  had  seen  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  hunt  was  enormously  successful,  and  the 
adventures  they  had  were  so  interesting  that  they 
deserve  a  separate  chapter. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE     COLONEL    READS    MACAULAY's     "ESSAYS,"     DIS- 
COURSES   ON    MANY    SUBJECTS    WITH    GREAT 
FRANKNESS,  DECLINES  A  DRINK  OF  SCOTCH 
WHISKY,  AND  KILLS  THREE  ELE- 
PHANTS 

ON  the  afternoon  of  November  fourteenth,  a  little 
cavalcade  of  horsemen  might  have  been  seen  riding 
slowly  away  from  our  camp  on  the  Nzoia  River. 
One  of  them,  evidently  the  leader,  was  a  well-built 
man  of  about  fifty-one  years,  tanned  by  many 
months  of  African  hunting  and  wearing  a  pair  of 
large  spectacles.  His  teeth  flashed  in  the  warm 
sunlight.  A  rough  hunting  shirt  encased  his  well- 
knit  body  and  a  pair  of  rougher  trousers,  reinforced 
with  leather  knee  caps  and  jointly  sustained  by 
suspenders  and  a  belt,  fitted  in  loose  folds  around 
his  stocky  legs.  On  his  head  was  a  big  sun  helmet, 
and  around  his  waist,  less  generous  in  amplitude 
than  formerly,  was  a  partly  filled  belt  of  Winches- 
ter cartridges.  His  horse  was  a  stout  little  Abys- 
sinian shooting  pony,  gray  of  color  and  lean  in 
build,  and  in  the  blood-stained  saddle-bag  was  a 
well-worn  copy  of  Macaulay's  Essays,  bound  in 
pigskin.  Our  hero — for  it  was  he — was  none  other 
than  Bwana  Tumbo,  the  hunter-naturalist,  expo- 

141 


142 


IN    AFRICA 


nent  of  the  strenuous  life,  and  ex -president  of  the 
United  States. 

If  I  were  writing  a  thrilling  story  of  adventure 
that  is  the  way  this  story  would  begin.  But  as  this  is 


Improving  Each  Shining  Hour 

designed  to  be  a  simple  chronicle  of  events,  it  is 
just  as  well  at  once  to  get  down  to  basic  facts  and 
tell  about  the  Roosevelt  elephant  hunt,  the  hyena 
episode,  and  the  pigskin  library,  together  with  other 
more  or  less  extraneous  matter. 

Colonel  Roosevelt,  his  son  Kermit,  Leslie  Tarl- 


A  Flag  Flew  Over  the  Colonel's  Tent 


Kermit   and   Mr.   Stephenson   Diagnosing   the   Case 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS   143 

ton,  who  is  managing1  the  Roosevelt  expedition,  and 
Edmund  Heller,  the  taxidermist  of  the  expedition, 
came  to  our  camp  on  the  fourteenth  of  November 
to  have  luncheon  and  to  talk  over  plans  whereby 
Colonel  Roosevelt  was  to  kill  one  or  more  elephants 
for  Mr.  Akeley's  American  museum  group  of  five 
or  six  elephants.  The  details  were  all  arranged 
and  later  in  the  afternoon  the  colonel  and  his  party 
left  for  their  own  camp,  only  a  short  distance  from 
ours. 

Mr.  Akeley,  with  one  of  our  tents  and  about 
forty  porters,  followed  later  in  the  evening  and 
spent  the  night  at  the  Roosevelt  camp.  The  fol- 
lowing morning  Colonel  Roosevelt,  Mr.  Akeley, 
Mr.  Tarlton  and  Kermit,  with  two  tents  and  forty 
porters  and  gunbearers,  started  early  in  the  hope 
of  again  finding  the  trail  of  the  small  herd  of  ele- 
phants that  had  been  seen  the  day  before.  The 
trail  was  picked  up  after  a  short  time  and  the  party 
of  hunters  expected  that  it  would  be  a  long  and 
wearisome  pursuit,  for  it  was  evident  that  the  ele- 
phants had  become  nervous  and  were  moving  stead- 
ily along  without  stopping  to  feed.  In  such  cases 
they  frequently  travel  forty  or  fifty  miles  before 
settling  down  to  quiet  feeding  again. 

The  country  was  hilly,  deep  with  dry  grass,  and 
badly  cut  up  with  small  gullies  and  jagged  out- 
croppings  of  rock  on  the  low  ridges.  At  all  times 
the  ears  of  the  hunting  party  were  alert  for  any 
sound  that  would  indicate  the  proximity  of  the 
herd,  but  for  several  hours  no  trumpeting,  nor  in- 


144  IN    AFRICA 

testinal  rumbling,  nor  crash  of  tusks  against  small 
trees  were  heard.  Finally,  at  about  eleven  o'clock, 
Tarlton,  who,  strangely  enough,  is  partly  deaf, 
heard  a  sound  that  caused  the  hunting  party  to  stop 
short.  He  heard  elephants.  They  were  undoubt- 
edly only  a  short  distance  ahead,  but  as  the  wind 
was  from  their  direction  there  was  little  likelihood 
that  they  had  heard  the  approach  of  the  hunters. 
So  Tarlton,  who  has  had  much  experience  in  ele- 
phant hunting,  led  the  party  off  at  a  right  angle 
from  the  elephant  trail  and  then,  turning,  paralleled 
the  trail  a  few  hundred  feet  away.  They  had  gone 
only  a  short  distance  when  it  became  evident  that 
they  had  passed  the  herd,  which  was  hidden  by  the 
tall  grass  and  the  thickly-growing  scrub  trees  that 
grew  on  all  sides. 

The  wooded  character  of  the  country  rendered  it 
easy  to  stalk  the  elephant  herd,  and  with  careful 
attention  to  the  wind,  the  four  hunters  and  their 
gunbearers  advanced  under  cover  until  the  ele- 
phants could  be  seen  and  studied.  Each  of  the 
four  hunters  carried  a  large  double-barreled  cordite 
rifle  that  fires  a  five-hundred-grain  bullet,  backed 
up  by  nearly  a  hundred  grains  of  cordite. 

As  was  expected,  the  herd  consisted  solely  of 
cows  and  calves.  There  were  eight  cow  elephants 
and  two  totos,  or  calves,  a  circumstance  that  was 
particularly  fortunate,  as  Colonel  Roosevelt  was 
expected  to  secure  one  or  two  cows  for  the  group, 
while  some  one  else  was  to  get  the  calf. 

For  some  moments  the  hunting  party  studied 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS    145 

the  group  of  animals  and  finally  decided  which  ones 
were  the  best  for  the  group. 

Two  of  the  largest  cows  and  the  calf  of  one  of 
them  were  selected.  It  is  always  the  desire  of  col- 
lectors who  kill  groups  of  animals  for  museums  to 
kill  the  calf  and  the  mother  at  the  same  time  when- 
ever practicable,  so  that  neither  one  is  left  to  mourn 
the  loss  of  the  other.  It  is  one  of  the  unpleasant 
features  of  group  collecting  that  calves  must  be 
killed,  but  the  collector  justifies  himself  in  the 
thought  that  many  thousands  of  people  will  be 
instructed  and  interested  in  the  group  when  it  is 
finished. 

Elephant  hunting  is  considered  by  many  Afri- 
can hunters  as  being  the  most  dangerous  of  all 
hunting.  When  a  man  is  wounded  by  an  elephant 
he  is  pretty  likely  to  die,  whereas  the  wounds  in- 
flicted by  lions  are  often  not  necessarily  mortal 
ones.  Also,  in  fighting  a  wounded  lion  one  may 
sometimes  take  refuge  in  the  low  branches  of  a  tree, 
but  with  a  wounded  elephant  there  is  rarely  time  to 
climb  high  enough  and  quick  enough  to  escape  the 
frenzied  animal.  In  elephant  shooting,  also,  the 
hunter  endeavors  to  approach  within  twenty  or 
thirty  yards,  so  that  the  bullets  may  be  placed  ex- 
actly where  their  penetration  will  be  the  most 
instantaneously  deadly.  Consequently,  a  badly 
placed  bullet  may  merely  infuriate  the  elephant 
without  giving  the  hunter  time  to  gain  a  place  of 
safety,  and  thus  be  much  worse  than  if  the  hunter 
had  entirely  missed  his  mark. 


146  IN    AFRICA 

Among  elephant  hunters  it  is  considered  more 
dangerous  to  attack  a  cow  elephant  than  a  bull,  for 
the  cow  is  always  ready  and  eager  to  defend  its 
calf,  hence  when  Colonel  Roosevelt  prepared  to 
open  fire  on  a  cow  elephant,  accompanied  by  a  calf, 
at  a  range  of  thirty  yards,  in  a  district  where  the 
highest  tree  was  within  reach  of  an  elephant's  trunk, 
the  situation  was  one  fraught  with  tense  uncer- 
tainty. 

Colonel  Roosevelt  is  undoubtedly  a  brave  man. 
The  men  who  have  hunted  with  him  in  Africa  say 
that  he  has  never  shown  the  slightest  sign  of  fear 
in  all  the  months  of  big  game  hunting  that  they 
have  done  together.  He  "holds  straight,"  as  they 
say  in  shooting  parlance,  and  at  short  range,  where 
his  eyesight  is  most  effective,  he  shoots  accurately. 

This,  then,  was  the  dramatic  situation  at  about 
twelve  o'clock  noon  on  November  fifteenth,  eight 
miles  east  of  the  Nzoia  River,  near  Mount  Elgon: 
Eight  cow  elephants,  two  totos,  one  ex-president 
with  a  double-barreled  cordite  rifle  thirty  yards 
away,  supported  by  three  other  hunters  similarly 
armed,  with  native  gunbearers  held  in  the  rear  as  a 
supporting  column. 

The  colonel  opened  fire ;  the  biggest  cow  dropped 
to  her  knees  and  in  an  instant  the  air  was  thunder- 
ous with  the  excited  "milling"  of  the  herd  of  ele- 
phants. For  several  anxious  minutes  the  spot  was 
the  scene  of  much  confusion,  and  when  quiet  was 
once  more  restored  Colonel  Roosevelt  had  killed 
three  elephants  and  Kermit  had  killed  one  of  the 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS    147 

calves.  It  had  not  been  intended  or  desired  to  kill 
more  than  two  of  the  cows,  but  with  a  herd  of  angry 
elephants  threatening-  to  annihilate  an  attacking 
party,  sometimes  the  prearranged  plans  do  not 
work  out  according  to  specifications. 

Kermit  was  hastily  despatched  to  notify  our 
camp  and  the  work  of  preparing  the  skins  of  the 
elephants  was  at  once  begun. 

In  the  meantime,  we  at  our  camp,  eight  miles 
away  from  the  scene  of  battle,  were  waiting  eagerly 
for  news  of  the  hunting  party,  although  expect- 
ing nothing  for  a  day  of  so.  It  seemed  too 
much  to  expect  that  the  hunt  should  have  such  a 
quick  and  successful  termination.  So  when  Kermit 
rode  in  with  the  news  late  in  the  afternoon  it  was  a 
time  for  felicitation.  We  all  solemnly  took  a  drink, 
which  in  itself  was  an  event,  for  our  camp  was  a 
"dry"  camp  when  in  the  field.  Only  the  killing  of 
a  lion  had  been  sufficient  provocation  for  taking  off 
the  "lid,"  but  on  the  strength  of  three  elephants  for 
the  group  the  "lid"  was  momentarily  raised  with 
much  ceremony  and  circumstance. 

The  burden  of  Kermit's  message  was  "sajft,  salt, 
salt!"  and  porters  and  second  gunbearers  to  help 
with  the  skinning.  So  James  L.  Clark,  who  has 
been  connected  with  the  American  Museum  of 
History  for  some  time  and  who  was  with  us  on  the 
Mount  Elgon  trip  to  help  Mr.  Akeley  with  the 
preparation  of  the  group,  started  off  with  a  lot  of 
porters  laden  with  salt  for  preserving  the  skins.  It 
was  his  plan  to  go  direct  to  the  main  Roosevelt 


148  IN    AFRICA 

camp,  get  a  guide,  and  then  push  on  to  the  elephant 
camp,  where  he  hoped  to  arrive  by  ten  o'clock  at 
night.  He  would  then  be  in  time  to  help  with  the 
skinning,  wrhich  we  expected  would  be  continued 
throughout  the  entire  night.  Kermit  stopped  at  his 
own  camp  and  gave  Clark  a  guide  for  the  rest  of 
the  journey,  after  which  he  went  to  bed. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  sound  of  firing  was  heard 
some  place  off  in  the  darkness.  The  night  guard  of 
the  Roosevelt  camp,  rightly  construing  it  to  be  a 
signal,  answered  it  with  a  shot,  and,  guided  by  the 
latter,  Clark  and  his  party  of  salt-laden  porters 
once  more  appeared.  They  had  traveled  in  a  circle 
for  three  hours  and  were  hopelessly  lost.  Kermit 
was  routed  out  and  again  supplied  more  guides— 
also  a  compass  and  also  the  direction  to  follow. 
Unfortunately  he  made  a  mistake  and  said  north- 
west instead  of  southeast — otherwise  his  directions 
were  perfect. 

For  three  hours  more  Clark  and  his  porters  went 
bumping  through  the  night,  stumbling  through  the 
long  grass  and  falling  into  hidden  holes.  The 
porters  began  to  be  mutinous  and  the  guides  were 
thoroughly  and  hopelessly  lost.  It  was  then  that 
they  one  and  all  laid  down  in  the  tall  grass,  made 
a  fire  to  keep  the  lions  and  leopards  away,  and 
slept  soundly  until  daylight.  Even  then  the  situa- 
tion was  little  better,  for  the  guides  were  still  at  sea. 
About  the  time  that  Clark  decided  to  return  to  the 
river,  miles  away,  and  take  a  fresh  start,  he  fired 
a  shot  in  the  forlorn  hope  of  getting  a  response 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS    149 

from  some  section  of  the  compass.  A  distant  shot 
came  in  answer  and  he  pushed  on  and  soon  came  up 
with  the  colonel  and  Tarlton  returning  home  after 
a  night  in  the  temporary  elephant  camp.  The 
colonel  gave  him  full  directions  and  at  nine  o'clock 
the  relief  party  arrived  at  their  destination. 

In  the  meantime  we,  Mrs.  Akeley,  Stephen- 
son  and  myself,  had  left  our  camp  on  the  river 
at  six-fifteen,  gone  to  the  Roosevelt  camp,  and 
with  Kermit  guiding  us  proceeded  on  across 
country  toward  the  elephant  camp.  On  our  way  we 
also  met  the  colonel  and  Tarlton,  the  former  im- 
mensely pleased  with  the  outcome  of  the  hunt  and 
full  of  enthusiasm  about  the  adventure  with  the 
elephants.  But  the  most  remarkable  thing  of  all, 
he  said,  wras  the  hyena  incident.  He  told  us  the 
story,  and  it  is  surely  one  that  will  make  all  nature 
fakers  sit  up  in  an  incredulous  and  dissenting 
mood. 

During  the  night,  the  story  goes,  many  hyenas 
had  come  from  far  and  near  to  gorge  on  the  car- 
casses of  the  elephants.  Their  howls  filled  the  night 
with  weird  sounds.  Lions  also  journeyed  to  the 
feast,  and  between  the  two  they  mumbled  the  bones 
of  the  slain  with  many  a  howl  and  snarl.  Early  in 
the  morning  the  colonel  went  out  in  the  hope  of  sur- 
prising a  lion  at  the  spread.  Instead,  to  his  great 
amazement,  he  saw  the  head  of  a  hyena  protruding 
from  the  distended  side  of  the  largest  elephant. 
It  was  inside  the  elephant  and  was  looking  out,  as 
through  a  window.  A  single  shot  finished  the 


150 


IN    AFRICA 


hyena,  after  which  a  more  careful  examination  was 
made. 

There  are  two  theories  as  to  what  really  hap- 
pened. One  is  that  the  hyena  ate  its  way  into  the 
inside  of  the  elephant,  then  gorged  itself  so  that 
its  stomach  was  distended  to  such  proportions  that 
it  couldn't  get  through  the  hole  by  which  it  had 
entered  the  carcass. 


The  Hyena  Episode 

The  other  theory  is  that,  after  eating  its  way  into 
the  elephant,  it  started  to  eat  its  way  out  by  a  differ- 
ent route.  When  its  head  emerged  the  heavy 
muscles  of  the  elephant's  side  inclosed  about  its 
neck  like  a  vise,  entrapping  the  hyena  as  effectively 
as  though  it  had  its  head  in  a  steel  trap.  In  the 
animal's  despairing  efforts  to  escape  it  had  kicked 
one  leg  out  through  the  thick  walls  of  the  elephant's 
side. 


Kermit    Roosevelt 


"  Peeling  "  an  Elephant 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS   151 

The  colonel,  in  parting,  asked  us  to  stop  with  him 
for  lunch  on  our  way  back  and  he  would  tell  us  all 
about  the  elephant  hunt  and  show  us  his  pigskin 
library.  In  return  we  promised  to  photograph  the 
hyena  and  thus  be  prepared  to  render  expert  testi- 
mony in  case,  some  time  in  the  future,  he  might 
get  into  a  controversy  with  the  nature  fakers  as 
to  the  truth  of  the  incident. 

We  then  resumed  our  journey  and  arrived  at  the 
elephant  camp  at  nine-thirty.  It  was  a  scene  of 
industry.  The  skins  of  the  two  largest  elephants 
and  that  of  the  calf  had  been  removed  the  after- 
noon before  and  were  spread  out  under  a  cluster  of 
trees.  Twenty  or  thirty  porters  were  squatted 
around  the  various  ears  and  strips  of  hide  and  mas- 
sive feet,  paring  off  all  the  little  particles  of  flesh 
or  tissue  that  remained.  As  fast  as  a  section  of  hide 
was  stripped  it  was  thickly  covered  with  salt  and 
rolled  up.  This  is  the  preliminary  step.  After- 
wards the  skin,  in  many  places  an  inch  in  thickness, 
is  pared  down  to  a  condition  of  pliable  thinness. 
This  work  requires  hours  or  even  days  of  hard  labor 
by  many  skilful  wielders  of  the  paring  knife.  The 
skulls  and  many  of  the  bones  are  saved  when  an 
animal  is  being  preserved  for  a  museum,  but  when 
we  arrived  they  had  not  yet  been  removed  from  the 
carcasses. 

Our  first  object  was  to  visit  the  hyena,  which  we 
found  still  protruding  from  the  side  of  his  tomb. 
We  photographed  him  from  all  angles,  after  which 
he  was  disinterred  and  exposed  to  full  view.  He 


152  IN    AFRICA 

had  certainly  died  happy.  He  had  literally  eaten 
himself  to  death,  and  his  body  was  so  distended 
from  gorging  that  it  was  as  round  as  a  ball.  Colonel 
Roosevelt  also  photographed  it,  so  that  there  will  be 
no  lack  of  evidence  if  the  incident  ever  reaches  the 
controversial  stage. 

The  third  cow  killed  by  Colonel  Roosevelt  was 
too  small  for  the  group,  so  the  skin  was  divided  up 
as  souvenirs  of  the  day.  We  each  got  a  foot, 
fifteen  square  feet  of  skin,  and  one  of  the  ears  was 
saved  for  the  colonel. 

We  then  started  on  the  long  two  hours'  ride  back 
to  the  Roosevelt  camp,  arriving  there  at  a  few  min- 
utes before  one  o'clock.  We  had  not  been  in  camp 
ten  minutes  before  a  whirlwind  came  along,  blew 
down  a  tent,  and  in  another  minute  was  gone. 

A  big  American  flag  was  flying  from  the  col- 
onel's tent,  and  he  came  out  and  greeted  us  with  the 
utmost  cordiality  and  warmth.  In  honor  of  the 
occasion  he  had  put  on  his  coat  and  a  green  knit 
tie.  He  was  beaming  with  pleasure  at  the  result  of 
the  elephant  hunt  and  seemed  proud  that  he  was  to 
have  elephants  in  the  American  Museum  group  to 
be  done  by  Mr.  Akeley.  Heller  was  stuffing  some 
birds  and  mice  and  was  as  slouchy,  deliberate  and  as 
full  of  dry  humor  as  any  one  I've  ever  seen.  He  is 
a  character  of  a  most  likable  type.  Tarlton,  small, 
with  short  cropped  red  hair — a  sort  of  Scotchman 
in  appearance — is  also  a  remarkable  type.  He  has 
a  quiet  voice,  never  raised  in  tone,  and  talks  like  the 
university  man  that  he  is.  He  is  a  famous  lion 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS    153 

hunter  and  has  killed  numbers  of  lions  and  ele- 
phants, but  now  he  says  he  is  through  with  danger- 
ous game. 

"I've  had  enough  of  it,"  he  says. 

The  colonel,  Tarlton,  Heller,  and  Kermit  were 
the  only  members  of  the  expedition  present, 
Mearns  and  Loring  having  been  engaged  in  a  sep- 
arate mission  up  in  the  Kenia  country  for  several 
weeks,  while  Cuninghame  had  gone  to  Uganda  to 
make  preparations  for  the  future  operations  of  the 
party  in  that  country. 

Mrs.  Akeley  washed  up  in  the  colonel's  tent, 
while  Stephenson  and  I  used  Kermit's  tent,  and 
as  we  washed  and  scrubbed  away  the  memories  of 
the  elephant  carcasses  the  colonel  stood  in  the  door 
and  talked  to  us. 

We  told  him  that  each  of  us  had  taken  a  drink 
of  Scotch  whisky  the  evening  before  in  honor  of 
the  elephants — the  first  drinks  we  had  taken  for 
weeks. 

"I'd  do  the  same,"  said  the  colonel,  "but  I  don't 
like  Scotch  whisky.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have 
taken  only  three  drinks  of  brandy  since  I've  been 
in  Africa,  twice  when  I  was  exhausted  and  once 
when  I  was  feeling  a  little  feverish.  Before  I  left 
Washington  there  were  lots  of  people  saying  that  I 
was  a  drunkard,  and  that  I  could  never  do  any 
work  until  I  had  emptied  a  bottle  or  two  of  liquor." 

We  told  him  that  we  had  heard  these  rumors  fre- 
quently during  the  closing  months  of  his  admin- 
istration, and  he  laughed. 


154  IN    AFRICA 

"I  never  drank  whisky,"  he  said;  "not  from  prin- 
ciple, but  because  I  don't  like  it.  I  seldom  drink 
wine,  because  I'm  rather  particular  about  the  kind 
of  wine  I  drink.  We  have  some  champagne  with 
us,  but  the  thought  of  drinking  hot  champagne  in 
this  country  is  unpleasant.  Sometimes,  when  I  can 
get  wines  that  just  suit  my  taste,  I  drink  a  little, 
but  never  much.  The  three  drinks  of  brandy  are 
all  I've  had  in  Africa,  and  I'm  sure  that  I've  not 
taken  one  in  the  last  four  months.  They  had  all 
sorts  of  stories  out  about  me  before  I  left  Wash- 
ington— that  I  was  drinking  hard  and  that  I  was 
crazy.  I  may  be  crazy,"  he  said,  laughing,  "but 
I  most  certainly  haven't  been  drinking  hard." 

The  luncheon  was  a  merry  affair.  Heller  had 
been  out  in  the  swamp  in  front  of  the  camp  and 
had  shot  some  ducks  for  luncheon. 

"On  my  way  in,"  said  the  colonel,  "I  shot  an  oribi, 
but  when  I  heard  that  Heller  had  shot  some  ducks 
I  knew  that  my  oribi  would  not  be  served." 

It  was  evident  that  the  most  thorough  good  fel- 
lowship existed  among  the  members  of  the 
colonel's  party.  His  fondness  for  all  of  them  was 
in  constant  evidence — in  the  way  he  joked  with 
them  and  in  the  complete  absence  of  restraint  in 
their  attitude  toward  him. 

"They  were  told  that  I  would  be  a  hard  man  to 
get  along  with  in  the  field,"  Colonel  Roosevelt  said, 
"but  we've  had  a  perfectly  splendid  time  together." 

I  asked  him  whether  he  had  been  receiving  news- 
papers, and,  if  not,  whether  he  would  like  to  see 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS   155 

some  that  I  had  received  from  home.  He  answered 
that  he  had  not  seen  any  and  really  didn't  want  to 
see  any. 

"I  don't  believe  in  clinging  to  the  tattered  shreds 
of  former  greatness,"  he  said,  laughing. 

He  had  not  heard  that  Governor  Johnson,  of 
Minnesota,  had  died,  and  when  we  told  him  he  said 
that  Johnson  would  undoubtedly  have  been  the 
strongest  presidential  candidate  the  Democrats 
could  have  nominated  the  next  time.  He  wanted  to 
know  where  he  could  address  a  note  of  sympathy  to 
Mrs.  Johnson. 

Later,  in  speaking  of  a  prominent  public  man 
who  loudly  disclaimed  responsibility  for  an  act 
committed  by  a  subordinate,  he  said : 

"It  would  have  been  far  better  to  have  said  noth- 
ing about  it,  but  let  people  think  he  himself  had 
given  the  order.  Very  often  subordinates  say  and 
do  things  that  are  credited  to  their  superiors,  and  it 
is  never  good  policy  to  try  to  shift  the  blame.  Do 
you  remember  the  time  Root  was  in  South  Amer- 
ica? Well,  some  president  down  there  sent  me  a 
congratulatory  telegram  which  reached  Washing- 
ton when  I  was  away.  Mr. of  the  state  depart- 
ment answered  it  in  my  name  and  said  that  I  and 
'my  people'  were  pleased  with  the  reception  they 
were  giving  Mr.  Root.  Well,  the  New  York  Sun 
took  the  matter  up  and  wrhen  the  fleet  went  around 
the  world  they  referred  to  it  as  'my  fleet,'  and  that 
'my  fleet'  had  crossed  'my  equator'  four  times  and 
'my  ocean'  a  couple  of  times.  It  was  very  cleverly 


156 


IN    AFRICA 


done  and  some  people  began  to  call  for  a  Brutus  to 
curb  my  imperialistic  tendencies." 

He  told  a  funny  story  about  John  L.  Sullivan, 
who  came  to  the  White  House  to  intercede  for  a 


Writing  His  Adventures  While  They're  Hot 

nephew  who  had  got  into  trouble  in  the  navy. 
John  L.  told  what  a  nice  woman  the  boy's  mother 
was  and  what  a  terrible  disgrace  it  would  be  for 
himself  and  his  family  if  the  boy  was  dropped  from 
the  navy.  "Why,  if  he  hadn't  gone  into  the  navy 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS    157 

he  might  have  turned  out  very  bad,"  said  John  L. ; 
"taken  up  music  or  something  like  that." 

We  also  told  him  that  some  of  the  American 
papers  were  keeping  score  on  the  game  he  had 
killed,  and  that  whenever  the  cable  reported  a  new 
victim  the  score  up  to  date  would  be  published  like 
a  base-ball  percentage  table.  In  the  last  report  he 
was  quoted  as  having  killed  seven  lions,  while 
Kermit  had  killed  ten.  This  seemed  to  amuse  him 
very  much,  although  the  figures  were  not  strictly 
accurate.  His  score  was  nine  and  Kermit's  eight 
up  to  date.  He  was  also  amused  by  the  habit  the 
American  papers  have  of  calling  him  "Bwana 
Tumbo,"  which  means  "The  Master  with  the  Stom- 
ach," a  title  that  did  not  fit  him  nearly  so  ap- 
propriately then  as  it  might  have  done  before  he 
began  his  active  days  in  the  hunting  field.  He  said, 
so  far  as  he  knew,  the  porters  called  him  "Bwana 
Mkubwa,"  which  means  "Great  Master,"  and  is 
applied  to  the  chief  man  of  a  safari,  regardless  of 
who  or  what  he  is.  It  is  merely  a  title  that  is  always 
used  to  designate  the  boss.  We  told  him  that  many 
natives  we  had  met  would  invariably  refer  to  him  as 
the  Sultana  Mkubwa,  or  Great  Sultan,  because  they 
had  heard  that  he  was  a  big  chief  from  America. 

He  also  laughingly  quoted  the  attitude  of  Wall 
Street  as  expressed  in  the  statement  that  they 
"hoped  every  lion  would  do  his  duty." 

Later,  in  speaking  generally  of  the  odd  expe- 
riences he  had  had  in  Africa,  he  spoke  of  one  that 
will  surely  be  regarded  as  a  nature  fake  when  he 


158  IN    AFRICA 

tells  it.  It  was  an  experience  that  he  and  Cuning- 
hame  had  with  a  big  bull  giraffe  which  they  ap- 
proached as  it  slept.  When  they  were  within  ten 
feet  of  it  it  opened  its  eyes  and  stared  at  them.  A 
slight  movement  on  their  part  caused  it  to  strike  out 
with  its  front  foot,  but  without  rising.  Then,  as 
they  made  no  offensive  moves,  it  continued  to  re- 
gard them  sleepily  and  without  fear.  Even  when 
they  threw  sticks  at  it  it  refused  to  budge,  and  it 
was  only  after  some  time  that  it  was  chased  away, 
where  it  came  to  a  stop  only  fifty  yards  off. 

"I  suppose  W.  J.  Long  will  call  that  a  nature 
fake,"  he  said,  "and  I  wish  that  I  had  had  a  camera 
with  me  so  that  I  could  have  photographed  it.  I'm 
afraid  they  won't  believe  Cuninghame,  because  they 
don't  know  him." 

In  the  course  of  the  luncheon  the  conversation 
ranged  from  politics,  public  men,  his  magazine 
work,  some  phases  of  Illinois  politics,  as  involved 
in  the  recent  senatorial  election,  his  future  plans 
of  the  present  African  trip  and  many  of  the  little 
experiences  he  had  had  since  arriving  in  the  coun- 
try. Much  that  was  said  was  of  such  frankness,  par- 
ticularly as  to  public  men,  as  to  be  obviously  confi- 
dential. 

He  was  asked  whether  he  had  secured,  among  his 
trophies,  any  new  species  of  animal  that  might  be 
named  after  him.  In  Africa  there  is  a  custom 
of  giving  the  discoverer's  name  to  any  new  kind 
or  class  of  animal  that  is  killed.  For  instance, 
the  name  "granti"  is  applied  to  the  gazelle  first 


Kerniit  Led  the  Way  to  the  Elephant  Camp 


The  Elephants'  Skulls  Were  Saved 


Removing   an    Elephant's    Skin 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS    15D 

discovered  by  the  explorer  Grant.  "Thompson!" 
is  applied  to  the  gazelle  discovered  by  Thompson. 
"Cokei"  is  the  name  given  the  hartebeest  discovered 
by  Coke,  and  so  on.  If  Colonel  Roosevelt  had  dis- 
covered a  new  variation  of  any  of  the  species  it 
would  be  called  the  "Roosevelti ." 

The  colonel  said  that  he  had  not  discovered  any 
new  animals,  but  that  Heller,  he  thought,  had 
found  some  new  variety  of  mouse  or  mole  on 
Mount  Kenia.  He  supposed  that  it  would  be  called 
the  Mole  Helleri. 

He  then  told  about  an  exciting  adventure  they 
had  with  a  hippo  two  nights  before.  Away  in  the 
night  the  camp  was  aroused  by  screams  coming 
from  the  big  swamp  in  front.  Kongoni,  his  gun- 
bearer,  rushed  in  and  shouted:  "Lion  eat  porter!" 
The  colonel  grabbed  his  gun  and  dashed  out  in  the 
darkness.  Kermit  and  one  or  two  others,  hastily 
armed,  also  appeared,  and  they  charged  down  the 
swamp,  where  a  hippo  had  made  its  appearance  in 
the  neighborhood  of  a  terrified  porter.  Kermit 
dimly  made  out  the  hippo  and  shot  at  it,  but  it 
disappeared  and  could  not  be  found  again. 

After  luncheon  the  colonel  said,  "Xow,  I  want 
to  inflict  my  pigskin  library  on  you,"  and  together 
we  went  into  his  tent  and  he  opened  an  oilcloth-cov- 
ered, aluminum-lined  case  that  was  closely  packed 
with  books,  nearly  all  of  which  were  bound  in  pig- 
skin. It  was  a  present  from  his  sister,  Mrs.  Douglas 
Robinson.  The  tent  was  lined  with  red,  evidently 
Kennit's  darkroom  when  he  was  developing  pic- 


160 


IN    AFRICA 


tures.  A  little  table  stood  at  the  open  flaps  of  the 
entrance  and  upon  it  were  writing-  materials,  with 
which  Mr.  Roosevelt  already  had  started  to  write 
up  the  elephant  hunt  of  the  day  before.  His  motto 
seems  to  be,  "Do  it  now,  if  not  sooner." 

I  sat  on  his  cot,  Mrs.  Akeley  on  a  small  tin  trunk, 


The  Pigskin  Library 

and  Stephenson  on  another.  The  colonel  squatted 
down  on  the  floor  cloth  of  the  tent  and  began  to 
show  us  one  by  one  the  various  literary  treasures 
from  his  pigskin  library.  The  whole  box  of  books 
was  so  designed  that  it  weighed  only  sixty  pounds, 
and  was  thus  within  the  limit  of  a  porter's  load. 
Some  of  the  books  were  well  stained  from  frequent 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS    l6l 

use  and  from  contact  with  the  contents  of  his  sad- 
dle-bags. Whenever  he  went  on  a  hunt  he  carried 
one  or  more  of  these  little  volumes,  which  he  would 
take  out  and  read  from  time  to  time  when  there  was 
nothing  else  to  do.  He  never  seemed  to  waste  a 
moment. 

His  pride  in  the  library  was  evident,  and  the 
fondness  with  which  he  brought  forth  the  books 
was  the  fondness  of  an  honest  enthusiast. 

"Some  people  don't  consider  Longfellow  a  great 
poet,  but  I  do,"  he  said,  as  he  showed  a  little  vol- 
ume of  the  poet's  works.  "Lowell  is  represented 
here,  but  I  think,  toward  the  end  of  his  life,  he 
became  too  much  Bostonian.  The  best  American," 
he  said  later,  "is  a  Bostonian  who  has  lived  ten 
years  west  of  the  Mississippi." 

He  then  showed  us  his  work-box,  a  compact  lea- 
ther case  containing  pads  of  paper,  pens,  lead 
pencils,  and  other  requirements  of  the  writer.  I 
did  not  see  a  type-writing  machine  such  as  we  car- 
toonists have  so  often  represented  in  our  cartoons 
of  Mr.  Roosevelt  in  Africa.  But,  then,  cartoonists 
are  not  always  strictly  accurate. 

Later  on  he  spoke  of  the  lectures  he  was  to  de- 
liver in  Berlin,  at  the  Sorbonne  in  Paris,  and  in 
Oxford  the  following  spring.  I  told  him  how  sur- 
prised I  had  been  to  hear  that  he  had  prepared  these 
lectures  during  the  rush  of  the  last  few  weeks  of  his 
administration.  He  said  that  he  probably  would  be 
regarded  as  a  representative  American  in  those 
lectures  and  that  he  wanted  to  do  them  just  as  well 


162  IN    AFRICA 

as  he  possibly  could.  He  knew  that  there  would  be 
no  time  nor  library  references  in  Africa,  and  so  he 
had  prepared  them  in  Washington  before  leaving 
America. 

In  regard  to  his  future  movements  he  seemed 
sorry  that  he  was  obliged  to  take  the  Nile  trip,  and 
that  he  was  only  doing  it  as  a  matter  of  business — 
that  he  had  to  get  a  white  rhino,  which  is  found  only 
along  certain  parts  of  the  Nile. 

"Going  back  by  the  Nile  is  a  long  and  hard  trip. 
For  the  first  twelve  days  we  will  not  fire  a  shot, 
probably.  It  will  mean  getting  started  every  morn- 
ing at  three  o'clock,  marching  until  ten,  then  sweat- 
ing under  mosquito  bars  during  the  heat  of  the 
day,  with  spirillum  ticks,  sleeping-sickness  flies, 
and  all  sorts  of  pests  to  bother  one ;  then  long  days 
on  the  Nile,  with  nothing  to  see  but  papyrus  reeds 
on  each  side." 

And  speaking  of  "rhinos"  suggests  a  little  inci- 
dent that  the  colonel  told  and  which  he  considers 
amusing. 

"One  day  one  of  the  party  was  stalking  a  buffalo, 
when  a  rhino  suddenly  appeared  some  distance 
away  and  threatened  to  charge  or  do  something  that 
would  alarm  the  buffalo  and  scare  it  away.  So  they 
told  me  to  hurry  down  and  shoo  the  rhino  off  while 
they  finished  their  stalk  and  got  the  buffalo.  So, 
you  see,  there's  an  occupation.  That  settles  the 
question  as  to  what  shall  we  do  with  our  ex-pres- 
idents. They  can  be  used  to  scare  rhinos  away." 

On  hearing  this  story  I  remembered  that  the 


THE    COLONEL    KILLS    THREE    ELEPHANTS   1C3 

thick-skinned  rhino  is  sometimes  used  by  cartoon- 
ists as  a  symbol  for  "the  trusts,"  and  the  story 
seemed  doubly  appropriate  as  applied  to  this  par- 
ticular ex-president. 

Some  member  of  our  party  then  modestly  ad- 
vanced the  suggestion  that  the  colonel  might  some 
day  be  back  in  the  White  House  again.  He 
laughed  and  said  that  the  kaleidoscope  never  re- 
peats. 

"They  needn't  worry  about  what  to  do  with  this 
ex-president,"  he  said.  "I  have  work  laid  out  for 
a  long  time  ahead." 

Another  member  of  our  party  then  told  about  the 
Roosevelt  act  in  The  Follies  of  1909,  in  one  part 
of  which  some  one  asks  Kermit  (in  the  play)  where 
the  "ex-president"  is.  "You  mean  the  'next  presi- 
dent,' don't  you?"  says  Kermit.  When  Colonel 
Roosevelt  heard  this  he  was  immensely  interested, 
not  so  much  in  the  words  of  the  play,  but  in  the  fact 
that  Kermit  had  been  represented  on  the  stage- 
dramatized,  as  it  were. 

And  as  we  left  for  our  own  camp  the  colonel 
called  out:  "Now,  don't  forget.  Just  as  soon  as 
we  all  get  back  to  America  we'll  have  a  lion  dinner 
together  at  my  house." 


CHAPTER  X 

ELEPHANT  HUNTING  NOT  AN  OCCASION  FOR  LIGHT- 
SOME   MERRYMAKING.     FIVE    HUNDRED    THOU- 
SAND   ACRES    OF    FOREST    IN    WHICH    THE 
KENIA  ELEPHANT   LIVES,   WANDERS 
AND  BRINGS  UP  HIS  CHILDREN 

THE  peril  and  excitement  of  elephant  hunting  can 
not  be  realized  by  any  one  who  has  known  only  the 
big,  placid  elephants  of  the  circus,  or  fed  peanuts 
to  a  gentle-eyed  pachyderm  in  the  park.  To  the 
person  thus  circumscribed  in  his  outlook,  the  idea 
of  killing  an  elephant  and  calling  it  sport  is  little 
short  of  criminal.  It  would  seem  like  going  out 
in  the  barnyard  and  slaying  a  friendly  old  family 
horse. 

That  was  my  point  of  view  before  I  went  to 
Africa,  but  later  experiences  caused  the  point  of 
view  to  shift  considerably.  If  any  one  thinks  that 
elephant  hunting  is  an  occasion  for  lightsome  mer- 
rymaking he  had  better  not  meet  the  African  ele- 
phant in  the  rough.  Most  people  are  acquainted 
with  only  the  Indian  elephant,  the  kind  commonly 
seen  in  captivity,  and  judge  from  him  that  the  ele- 
phant is  a  sort  of  semi-domesticated  beast  of  bur- 
den, like  the  camel  and  the  ox.  Yet  the  Indian 

164 


The   Hyenas   Had   Feasted   Well 


Great  Stretches  of  Dense  Forest 


FIVE    HUNDRED    THOUSAND    ACRES 


165 


elephant  is  about  as  much  like  his  African  brother 
as  a  tomcat  is  like  a  tiger. 

Many  African  hunters  consider  elephant  hunting 
more  dangerous  than  lion,  rhino,  or  buffalo  hunt- 
ing, any  one  of  which  can  hardly  be  called  an  indoor 
sport.  These  are  the  four  animals  that  are  classed 
as  "royal  game"  in  game  law  parlance,  and  each 


Being  Killed  by  an  Elephant  Is  a  Very  Mussy  Death 

one  wrhen  aroused  is  sufficiently  diverting  to  dis- 
pel any  lassitude  produced  by  the  climate.  It  is 
wakeful  sport — hunting  these  four  kinds  of  game 
—and  in  my  experience  elephant  hunting  is  the 
"most  wakefullest"  of  them  all. 

In  my  several  months  of  African  hunting  I 
had  four  different  encounters  wTith  elephants.  The 
first  two  were  on  Mount  Kenia  and  the  last  two 


166  IN    AFRICA 

• 

were  on  the  Guas  Ngishu  Plateau,  near  where  it 
merges  into  the  lower  slopes  of  Mount  Elgon.  The 
first  and  the  fourth  experiences  were  terrifying 
ones,  never  to  be  forgotten.  An  Englishman,  if  he 
were  to  describe  them,  would  say  "they  were  rather 
nasty,  you  know,"  which  indicates  how  really  seri- 
ous they  were.  The  second  and  the  third  experi- 
ences were  interesting,  but  not  particularly  dan- 
gerous. 

Mount  Kenia  is  a  great  motherly  mountain  that 
spreads  over  an  immense  area  and  raises  its  snow- 
capped peaks  over  eighteen  thousand  feet  above 
the  equator.  The  lower  slopes  are  as  beautiful  as  a 
park  and  are  covered  with  the  fields  and  the  herds  of 
the  prosperous  Kikuyus  and  other  tribes.  Scores 
of  native  villages  of  varying  sizes  are  picturesquely 
planted  among  the  banana  groves  and  wooded  val- 
leys on  this  lower  slope,  each  with  its  local  chief,  or 
sultan,  and  each  tribe  with  its  head  sultan. 

In  a  day's  "trek"  one  meets  many  sultans  with 
their  more  or  less  naked  retinues,  and  every  one  of 
them  spits  on  his  hand,  presses  it  to  his  forehead,  and 
shakes  hands  with  you.  It  is  the  form  of  greeting 
among  the  Kikuyus,  and,  in  my  opinion,  might  be 
improved.  These  people  lead  a  happy  pastoral  life 
amid  surroundings  of  exceptional  beauty.  Above 
the  cultivated  sTiambas,  or  fields  of  sweet  potatoes 
and  tobacco  and  sugar  and  groves  of  bananas,  comes 
a  strip  of  low  bush  country.  It  is  a  mile  or  two 
wide,  scarcely  ten  feet  high,  and  so  dense  that  noth- 
ing but  an  elephant  could  force  its  way  through  the 


FIVE    HUNDRED    THOUSAND    ACRES        167 

walls  of  vegetation.  Most  of  the  bushes  are  black- 
berry and  are  thorny. 

The  elephants  in  their  centuries  of  travel  about 
the  slopes  have  made  trails  through  this  dense  bush, 
and  it  is  only  by  following  these  trails  that  one  can 
reach  the  upper  heights  of  the  mountain.  Above 


Following  the  Trail 

the  bush  belt  comes  the  great  forest  belt,  sublimely 
grand  in  its  hugeness  and  beauty,  and  above  this 
belt  comes  the  encircling  band  of  bamboo  forest 
that  reaches  up  to  the  timber  line.  There  are  prob- 
ably five  hundred  thousand  acres  of  forest  country 
in  which  the  Kenia  elephant  may  live  and  wander 
and  bring  up  his  children.  He  has  made  trails  that 
weave  and  wind  through  the  twilight  shades  of  the 


168  IN    AFRICA 

forest,  and  the  only  ways  in  which  a  man  may  pene- 
trate to  his  haunts  are  by  these  ancient  trails.  Mount 
Kenia,  as  seen  from  afar,  loots  soft  and  green  and 
easy  to  stroll  up,  but  no  man  unguided  could  ever 
find  his  way  out  if  once  lost  in  the  labyrinth  of  trails 
that  criss-cross  in  the  forest. 

For  many  years  the  elephants  of  Kenia  have 
been  practically  secure  from  the  white  hunter  with 
his  high-powered  rifles.  Warfare  between  the  na- 
tive tribes  on  the  slopes  has  been  so  constant  that  it 
was  not  until  three  or  four  years  ago  that  it  was 
considered  reasonably  safe  for  the  government  to 
allow  hunting  parties  to  invade  the  south  side  of 
the  mountain.  Prior  to  that  time  the  elephant's 
most  formidable  enemies  were  the  native  hunter, 
who  fought  with  poisoned  spears  and  built  deep  pits 
in  the  trails,  pits  cleverly  concealed  with  thin  strips 
of  bamboo  and  dried  leaves,  and  the  ivory  hunting 
poachers.  In  1906  the  government  granted  permis- 
sion to  Mr.  Akeley  to  enter  this  hitherto  closed  dis- 
trict to  secure  specimens  for  the  Field  Museum, 
and  even  then  there  was  only  a  narrow  strip  that 
was  free  from  tribal  warfare.  It  was  at  that  time 
that  his  party  secured  seven  splendid  tuskers,  one 
of  which,  a  one-hundred-fifteen-pound  tusker  shot 
by  Mrs.  Akeley,  was  the  largest  ever  killed  on 
Mount  Kenia.  And  it  was  to  this  district  that  Mr. 
Akeley  led  our  safari  late  in  October  to  try  again 
for  elephants  on  the  old  familiar  stamping  ground. 
We  pitched  our  camp  in  a  lovely  spot  where  one  of 
his  camps  had  stood  three  years  before,  just  at  the 


The  Old  Wanderobo  Guide 


170  IN    AFRICA 

edge  of  the  thick  bush  and  on  the  upper  edge  of  the 
shambas.  News  travels  quickly  in  this  country, 
and  in  a  short  time  many  of  his  old  Kikuyu  friends 
were  at  our  camping  place.  One  or  two  of  the  old 
guides  were  on  hand  to  lead  the  way  into  elephant 
haunts  and  the  natives  near  our  camp  reported  that 
the  elephants  had  been  coming  down  into  their 
fields  during  the  last  few  days.  Some  had  been 
heard  only  the  day  before.  So  the  prospects  looked 
most  promising,  and  we  started  on  a  little  hunt  the 
first  afternoon  after  arriving  in  camp. 

We  took  one  tent  and  about  twenty  porters,  for 
when  one  starts  on  an  elephant  trail  there  is  no  tell- 
ing how  long  he  will  be  gone  or  where  he  may  be 
led.  We  expected  that  we  would  have  to  climb  up 
through  the  strip  of  underbrush,  and  perhaps  even 
as  far  up  as  the  bamboos,  in  which  event  we  might 
be  gone  two  or  three  days.  In  addition  to  the 
porters  we  had  our  gunbearers  and  a  couple  of  na- 
tive guides.  One  of  these  was  an  old  Wanderobo,  or 
man  of  the  forest,  who  had  spent  his  life  in  the  soli- 
tudes of  the  mountain  and  was  probably  more 
familiar  with  the  trails  than  any  other  man.  He 
wore  a  single  piece  of  skin  thrown  over  his  shoul- 
ders and  carried  a  big  poisoned  elephant  spear  with 
a  barb  of  iron  that  remains  in  the  elephant  when 
driven  in  by  the  weight  of  the  heavy  wooden  shaft. 
The  barb  was  now  covered  with  a  protective  bind- 
ing of  leaves.  He  led  the  way,  silent  and  mild-eyed 
and  very  naked,  and  the  curious  little  skin-tight  cap 
that  he  wore  made  him  look  like  an  old  woman.  As 


He  Was   a  Very  Important  Sultan 


Saying  Good-bye  to  Colonel  Roosevelt 


A  Visiting  Delegation  of   Kikuyus 


FIVE    HUNDRED    THOUSAND    ACRES        171 

we  proceeded,  other  natives  attached  themselves  to 
us  as  guides,  so  that  by  the  time  we  were  out  half  an 
hour  there  were  four  or  five  savages  in  the  van. 

No  words  can  convey  to  the  imagination  the 
density  of  that  first  strip  of  bush.  It  was  like  walk- 
ing between  solid  walls  of  vegetation,  matted  and 
tangled  and  bright  with  half -ripened  blackberries. 
The  walls  were  too  high  to  see  over  except  as  occa- 
sionally we  could  catch  glimpses  of  tree-tops  some- 
where ahead.  We  wound  in  and  out  along  the 
tortuous  path,  and  it  was  also  torture-ous,  for  the 
thorn  bushes  scratched  our  hands  and  faces  and 
even  sent  their  stickers  through  the  cloth  into  our 
knees.  The  effect  on  the  barelegged  porters  was 
doubtless  much  worse. 

After  a  couple  of  hours  of  marching  in  those 
canons  of  vegetation  we  entered  the  lower  edge  of 
the  forest  and  left  the  underbrush  behind.  We 
soon  struck  a  fairly  fresh  elephant  trail  and  for  an 
hour  wound  in  and  out  among  the  trees,  stumbling 
over  "monkey  ropes"  and  gingerly  avoiding  old 
elephant  pits.  There  were  dozens  of  these,  and  if 
it  had  not  been  for  the  fact  that  our  old  guide  care- 
fully piloted  us  past  them  I'm  certain  more  than 
one  of  us  would  have  plunged  down  on  to  the  sharp- 
ened stakes  at  the  bottom.  Some  of  the  traps  were 
so  cleverly  concealed  that  only  a  Wanderobo  could 
detect  them.  In  places  the  forest  was  like  the 
stately  aisles  of  a  great  shadowy  cathedral,  with 
giant  cedars  and  camphor-wood  trees  rising  in  tow- 
ering columns  high  above  where  the  graceful  fes- 


172 


IN    AFRICA 


toons  of  liana  and  moss  imparted  an  imposing  scene 
of  vastness  and  tropical  beauty.  In  such  places  the 
ground  was  clean  and  springy  to  the  footfall  and 


Elephant  Pits 

the  impression  of  a  splendid  solitude  was  such  as 
one  feels  in  a  great  deserted  cathedral.  At  times 
we  crossed  matted  and  snaky -looking  little  streams 
that  trickled  through  the  decaying  vegetation, 
where  the  feet  of  countless  elephants  had  worn  deep 


FIVE    HUN7DRED    THOUSAND    ACRES        173 

holes  far  down  in  the  mud.  Then,  after  long  and 
circuitous  marching,  we  would  find  ourselves  tra- 
versing spots  where  we  had  been  an  hour  before. 

The  elephant  apparently  moves  about  without 
much  definition  of  purpose,  at  least  when  he  is 
idling  away  his  time,  and  the  trail  we  were  follow- 
ing led  in  all  directions  like  a  mystic  maze.  At  this 
time  I  was  hopelessly  lost,  and  if  left  alone  could 
probably  never  have  found  my  way  out  again.  So 
we  quickened  our  steps  lest  the  guides  should  get 
too  far  ahead  of  us.  In  those  cool  depths  of  the 
forest,  into  which  only  occasional  shafts  of  sun- 
light filtered,  the  air  was  cold  and  damp,  so  much  so 
that  even  the  old  Wanderobo  got  cold.  It  made  me 
cold  to  look  at  his  thin,  old  bare  legs,  but  then  I 
suppose  his  legs  were  as  much  accustomed  to  expo- 
sure as  my  hands  were,  and  it's  all  a  matter  of  get- 
ting used  to  it. 

Our  porters,  especially  those  that  were  most 
heavily  loaded,  were  falling  behind  and  there  was 
grave  danger  of  losing  them.  In  fact,  a  little  later 
we  did  lose  them.  The  trail  became  fresher  and, 
to  my  dismay,  led  downward  again  and  into  that 
hopeless  mass  of  underbrush  which  at  this  point  ex- 
tended some  distance  into  the  lower  levels  of  the 
forest.  We  could  not  see  in  any  direction  more 
than  twenty-five  feet — except  above.  If  our  lives 
had  depended  on  it  we  could  not  have  penetrated 
the  dense  matted  barriers  of  vegetation  on  each  side 
of  the  narrow  trail.  The  bare  thought  of  meeting 
an  elephant  in  such  a  place  sent  a  cold  chill  down  the 


174  IN    AFRICA 

back.  If  he  happened  to  be  coming  toward  us  our 
only  hope  was  in  killing  him  before  he  could  charge 
twenty-five  feet,  and,  if  we  did  kill  him,  to  avoid 
being  crushed  by  his  body  as  it  plunged  forward. 
Without  question  it  was  the  worst  place  in  the  world 
to  encounter  an  elephant.  And  I  prayed  that  we 
might  get  into  more  open  forest  before  we  came  up 
with  the  ones  we  were  trailing.  You  can't  imagine 
how  earnestly  we  all  joined  in  that  prayer. 

It  was  at  this  unpropitious  moment  that  we  heard 
— startlingly  near — the  sharp  crash  of  a  tusk 
against  a  tree  somewhere  just  ahead.  It  was  a  most 
unwelcome  sound.  There  was  no  way  of  determin- 
ing where  the  elephant  was,  for  we  were  hemmed  in 
by  solid  walls  of  bush  and  could  not  have  seen  an 
elephant  ten  feet  on  either  side  of  the  narrow  trail. 
We  also  didn't  know  whether  he  was  coming  or 
going  or  whether  he  was  on  our  trail  or  some  other 
one  of  the  maze  of  trails. 

We  quickly  prepared  for  the  worst.  With  our 
three  heavy  guns  we  crouched  in  the  trail,  waiting 
for  the  huge  bulk  of  an  elephant  to  loom  up  before 
us.  Then  came  another  thunderous  crash  to  our 
right — and  it  seemed  scarcely  fifty  yards  away. 
Then  a  shrill  squeal  of  a  startled  elephant  off  to  our 
left  and  still  another  to  the  rear.  Some  elephants 
had  evidently  just  caught  our  scent,  and  if  the  rest 
of  the  elephants  became  alarmed  and  started  a 
stampede  through  the  bush  the  situation  would  be- 
come extremely  irksome  for  a  man  of  quiet-loving 
tendencies.  The  thought  of  elephants  charging 


A  Clearing  in  the  Forest 


A   Kikuyu  "Cotillion" 


Kikuyu  Women  Flailing  Grain 


FIVE    HUNDRED    THOUSAND    ACRES        175 

down  those  narrow  trails,  perhaps  from  two  direc- 
tions at  once,  was  one  that  started  a  copious  flow  of 
cold  perspiration.  We  waited  for  several  years  of 
intense  apprehension.  There  was  absolute  silence. 
The  elephants  also  were  evidently  awaiting  further 
developments. 

Then  we  edged  slowly  onward  along  the  trail, 
approaching  each  turning  with  extreme  caution  and 
then  edging  on  to  the  next.  Somewhere  ahead  and 
on  two  sides  of  us  there  were  real,  live,  wild  ele- 
phants that  probably  were  not  in  a  mood  to  welcome 
visitors  from  Chicago.  How  near  they  were  we 
didn't  know — except  that  the  sounds  had  come 
from  very  near,  certainly  not  more  than  a  hundred 
yards — and  we  hoped  that  we  might  go  safely  for- 
ward to  where  the  bush  would  be  thin  enough  to 
alllow  us  to  see  our  surroundings.  But  there  was 
no  clearing.  Several  times  a  crash  of  underbrush 
either  ahead  or  to  one  side  brought  us  to  anxious 
attention  with  fingers  at  the  trigger  guards.  At 
last,  after  what  seemed  to  be  hours  of  nervous  ten- 
sion, we  came  to  a  crossing  of  trails,  down  which 
we  could  see  in  four  directions  thirty  or  forty  feet. 
A  large  tree  grew  near  the  intersection  of  the  trails, 
and  here  we  waited  within  reach  of  its  friendly 
protection.  It  was  much  more  reassuring  than  to 
stand  poised  in  a  narrow  trail  with  no  possibility 
of  sidestepping  a  charge.  We  waited  at  the  cross- 
ing for  further  sounds  of  the  elephants — waited 
for  some  time  with  rifles  ready  and  then  gradually 
relaxed  our  taut  nerves.  A  line  of  porters  with 


176 


IN    AFRICA 


their  burdens  were  huddled  in  one  of  the  trails 
awaiting  developments.  I  took  a  picture  of  the 
situation  and  had  stood  my  rifle  against  the  tree, 
and  sat  down  to  whisper  the  situation  over.  All 
immediate  danger  seemed  to  have  passed.  It 
seemed  to,  but  it  hadn't. 

Like    a    sudden    unexpected    explosion    of    a 


The  Porters  Came  Down  the  Trail 

thirteen-inch  gun  there  was  a  thundering  crash  in 
the  bushes  behind  the  porters,  then  a  perfect  ava- 
lanche of  terrified  porters,  a  dropping  of  bundles, 
a  wild  dash  for  the  protection  of  the  tree,  and  a 
bunch  of  the  most  startled  white  men  ever  seen  on 
Mount  Kenia.  I  reached  the  tree  in  two  jumps, 
and  three  would  have  been  a  good  record.  The 
crashing  of  bushes  and  small  trees  at  our  elbows 


FIVE    HUNDRED    THOUSAND    ACRES        177 

marked  the  course  of  a  frenzied  or  frightened  ele- 
phant, and  to  our  intense  relief  the  sounds  dimin- 
ished as  the  animal  receded.  I  don't  think  I  was 
ever  so  frightened  in  my  life.  But  I  had  company. 
I  didn't  monopolize  all  the  fright  that  was  used  in 
those  few  seconds  of  terror. 

We  then  decided  that  there  was  no  sane  excuse 
for  hunting  elephants  under  such  conditions.  We 
at  least  demanded  that  we  ought  to  see  what  we 
were  hunting  rather  than  blindly  stumble  through 
dense  bush  with  elephants  all  around  us.  So  we 
beat  a  masterly  retreat,  not  without  two  more  seri- 
ous threats  from  the  hidden  elephants.  A  boy  was 
sent  up  a  tree  to  try  to  locate  the  elephants,  but  even 
up  there  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish  anything 
in  the  mass  of  vegetation  around.  We  fired  guns 
to  frighten  away  the  animals,  but  at  each  report 
there  was  only  a  restless  rustle  in  the  brush  that  said 
that  they  were  still  there  and  waiting,  perhaps  as 
badly  scared  as  we  were. 

My  second  elephant  experience  came  the  next 
day. 

We  started  forth  again,  with  a  single  tent,  our 
guides  and  gunbearers,  a  cook  and  a  couple  of  tent 
boys  and  twenty  porters.  This  time  we  politely 
ignored  all  elephant  trails  in  the  dense  bush  and 
pushed  on  through  the  forest.  Here  it  was  in- 
finitely better,  for  one  could  see  some  distance  in 
all  directions.  We  climbed  steadily  for  a  couple 
of  thousand  feet,  always  in  forest  so  wild  and  grand 
and  beautiful  as  to  exceed  all  dreams  of  what  an 


178  IN    AFRICA 

African  forest  could  be.  It  more  than  fulfilled 
the  preconceptions  of  a  tropical  forest  such  as  you 
see  described  in  stories  of  the  Congo  and  the  Ama- 
zon. 

The  air  was  cold  in  the  shadows,  but  pleasant  in 
the  little  open  glades  that  occasionally  spread  out 
before  us.  Once  or  twice  in  the  heart  of  that  over- 
whelming forest  we  found  little  circular  clearings 
so  devoid  of  trees  as  to  seem  like  artificial  clearings. 
Once  we  found  the  skull  of  an  elephant  and  scores 
of  times  we  narrowly  escaped  the  deep  elephant 
traps  that  lay  in  our  paths.  Many  times  we  saw 
evidences  of  the  giant  forest  pig  that  lives  on 
Mount  Kenia  and  has  only  once  or  twice  been  killed 
by  a  white  man.  Sometimes  we  came  to  deep  ravines 
with  sides  that  led  for  a  hundred  feet  almost  per- 
pendicularly through  tangles  of  creepers  and  bogs 
of  rotted  vegetation. 

We  dragged  ourselves  up  by  clinging  to  vines 
and  monkey  ropes.  On  all  sides  was  a  solitude  so 
vast  as  almost  to  overpower  the  senses.  The  sounds 
of  bird  life  seemed  only  to  intensify  the  effect  of 
solitude.  Once  in  a  while  we  came  upon  evidences 
of  human  habitation,  little  huts  of  twigs  and  leaves, 
where  the  Wanderobo,  or  man  of  the  forest,  lived 
and  hunted.  Up  in  some  of  the  trees  were  thin 
cylindrical  wooden  honey  pots,  some  of  them  ages 
old  and  some  comparatively  new.  And  in  the  lower 
levels  of  the  forest  we  saw  where  the  Kikuyu 
women  had  come  up  for  firewood.  For  some 
strange  reason  the  elephants  are  not  afraid  of  the 


FIVE    HUNDRED    THOUSAND    ACRES        179 

native  women  and  will  not  be  disturbed  by  the  sight 
of  one  of  them.  After  seeing  the  women  I  am  not 
surprised  that  they  feel  that  way  about  it,  but  I 
don't  see  how  they  can  tell  the  women  from  the 
men.  Possibly  because  they  know  that  only  the 
women  do  such  manual  labor  as  to  carry  wood. 

In  the  afternoon  we  reached  the  bamboos  which 
lie  above  the  forest  belt.  Here  the  ground  is 
clean  and  heavily  carpeted  with  dry  bamboo  leaves. 
The  bamboos  grow  close  together,  all  seemingly  of 
the  same  size,  and  are  pervaded  with  a  cool,  green- 
ish shadow  that  is  almost  sunny  in  comparison  with 
the  deep,  solemn  shades  of  the  great  forest. 

Then  wre  struck  a  trail.  The  old  Wanderobo 
guide  said  it  was  only  an  hour  or  so  old  and  that 
we  should  soon  overtake  the  elephant.  It  was  evi- 
dently only  one  elephant  and  not  a  large  one.  It 
is  fascinating  to  watch  an  experienced  elephant 
hunter  and  to  see  how  eloquent  the  trail  is  to  him. 
A  broken  twig  means  something,  the  blades  of 
grass  turned  a  certain  way  will  distinguish  the  fresh 
trail  from  the  old  one,  the  footprints  in  the  soft 
earth,  the  droppings — all  tell  a  definite  story  to 
him,  and  he  knows  when  he  is  drawing  down  upon 
his  quarry.  As  we  proceeded  his  movements  be- 
came slower  and  more  cautious,  and  the  plodding 
drudgery  of  following  an  elephant  trail  gave  way 
to  suppressed  excitement. 

Slower  and  slower  he  went,  and  finally  he  indi- 
cated that  only  the  gunbearers  and  ourselves  should 
continue.  The  porters  were  left  behind,  and  in  sin- 


180 


IN    AFRICA 


gle  file  we  moved  on  tiptoe  along  the  trail.  Then  he 
stopped  and  by  his  attitude  said  that  the  quest  was 
ended.  The  elephant  was  there.  One  by  one  we 
edged  forward,  and  there,  thirty  yards  away,  partly 
hidden  by  slender  bamboos,  stood  a  motionless  ele- 
phant. He  seemed  to  be  the  biggest  one  I  had  ever 


It  Looked  Like  the  Rear  Elevation  of  a  Barn 

seen.  He  was  quartering,  head  away  from  us,  and 
we  could  not  see  his  tusks.  If  they  were  big,  we 
were  to  shoot ;  if  not,  we  were  to  let  him  alone.  As 
we  watched  and  waited  for  his  head  to  turn  we 
noticed  that  his  ears  began  to  wave  slowly  back  and 
forth,  like  the  gills  of  a  fish  as  it  breathes.  The 
head  slowly  and  almost  imperceptibly  turned,  and 


FIVE    HUNDRED    THOUSAND    ACRES        181 

Akeley  signaled  me  to  shoot.  From  where  I  stood 
I  could  not  see  the  tusks  at  first,  but  as  his  head 
turned  more  I  saw  the  great  white  shafts  of  ivory. 
The  visible  ivory  was  evidently  about  four  feet 
long,  and  indicated  that  he  carried  forty  or  fifty 
pounds  of  ivory.  Then,  quicker  than  a  wink,  the 
great  dark  mass  was  galvanized  into  motion.  He 
darted  forward,  crashing  through  the  bamboo  as 
though  it  had  been  a  bed  of  reeds,  and  in  five 
seconds  had  disappeared.  For  some  moments  we 
heard  his  great  form  crashing  away,  farther  and 
farther,  until  it  finally  died  out  in  the  distance. 

It  was  the  first  wild  elephant  I  had  ever  seen, 
and  it  is  photographed  on  my  memory  so  vividly  as 
never  to  be  forgotten.  I  was  more  than  half  glad 
that  I  had  not  shot  and  that  he  had  got  away  un- 
harmed. 

That  night  we  camped  in  a  little  circular  clear- 
ing which  the  Akeleys  called  "Tembo  Circus,"  for 
it  was  near  this  same  clearing  that  one  of  their 
large  elephants  had  been  killed  three  years  before, 
and  in  the  clearing  the  skin  had  been  prepared  for 
preservation.  All  about  us  stretched  the  vast  forest, 
full  of  strange  night  sounds  and  spectral  in  the 
darkness.  In  the  morning  we  awoke  in  a  dense  cloud 
and  did  not  break  camp  until  afternoon.  Our  Ki- 
kuyu  and  Wanderobo  guides  were  sent  out  with 
promises  of  liberal  backsheesh  to  find  fresh  trails, 
but  they  returned  with  unfavorable  reports,  so  we 
marched  back  to  the  main  camp  again. 

Thus  ended  our  Kenia  elephant  experience,  for 


182  IN    AFRICA 

a  letter  from  Colonel  Roosevelt,  asking  Mr.  Akeley 
if  he  could  come  to  Nairobi  for  a  conference  on  their 
elephant  group,  led  to  our  departure  from  the 
Mount  Kenia  country. 

The  other  two  elephant  experiences  were  much 
more  spectacular  and  perhaps  are  worthy  of  a 
separate  story. 


CHAPTER  XI 

NINE  DAYS   WITHOUT   SEEING  AN   ELEPHANT.      THE 

ROOSEVELT  PARTY  DEPARTS  AND  WE  MARCH  FOR 

THE    MOUNTAINS   ON    OUR    BIG    ELEPHANT 

HUNT.    THE  POLICEMAN  OF  THE  PLAINS 

THE  Mount  Elgon  elephants  have  a  very  bad  repu- 
tation. The  district  is  remote  from  government 
protection  and  for  years  the  herds  have  been  the 
prey  of  Swahili  and  Arab  ivory  hunters,  as  well  as 
poachers  of  all  sorts  who  have  come  over  the 
Uganda  border  or  down  from  the  savage  Turkana 
and  Suk  countries  on  the  north.  As  a  natural  con- 
sequence of  this  unrestricted  poaching  the  herds 
have  been  hunted  and  harassed  so  much  that  most 
of  the  large  bull  elephants  with  big  ivory  have  been 
killed,  leaving  for  the  greater  part  big  herds  of 
cows  and  young  elephants  made  savage  and  vicious 
by  their  persecution.  Elephant  hunters  who  have 
conscientiously  hunted  the  district  bring  in  reports 
of  having  seen  herds  of  several  hundred  elephants, 
most  of  which  were  cows  and  calves,  and  of  having 
seen  no  bulls  of  large  size. 

The  government  game  license  permits  the  holder 
to  kill  two  elephants,  the  ivory  of  each  to  be  at  least 
sixty  pounds.  This  means  a  fairly  large  elephant 
and  may  be  either  a  bull  or  a  cow.  The  cow  ivory, 

183 


IX   AFRICA 


however,  mcly  reaches  that  weight  ana 
quently  the  bulb  are  the  ones  the  banters  arc  after 
and  the  ones  that  have  gradually  been  so  greatly 
reduced  in  numbers.  The  elephant 
roam  the  slopes  of  the  mountains  and  often 
long  swinging  trips  out  in  the  broad  stretches  of 
the  Gnas  Xgishn  Plateau  to  the  east  •  aid,  in  all  a 
district  probably  fifty  miles  wide  by  scrty  or  jc.tciii.1 
naves  long. 

The  hunters  who  invade  this  section  usuauv 
march  north  from  the  railroad  at  a  point  near  Yie- 

rd  at  a  little 


called  SergoL,  and  continue  in  that  direction  until 
they  reach  the  Xzoia  River.  XaturaDy,  these 
names  win  mean  nothing  to  one  not  familiar  with 
the  country,  but  perhaps  by  saying  that  the  trip 
means  at  least  ten  days  of  steady  marching  in  a 
remote  and  unsettled  country,  far  from  inuius  of 
supplies,  I  wfll  be  able  to  convey  a  faint  idea  of  how 
hard  it  is  to  reach  the  elephant  country. 

Our  purpose  in  making  tins  long  trip  of  ten 
weeks  or  more  was  to  try  for  black-mailed  lion  on 
the  high  plateau  and  to  collect  elephants  for  the 
group  that  Mr.  Akeley  is  preparing  for  the  Amer- 
ican Museum  of  Xatnral  Historv.  The  wnan- 

IP 

ment  gave  him  a  special  permit  to  collect  such  ele- 
phants as  he  would  require,  two  cows,  a  calf,  a 
young  bull,  and,  if  possible,  two  large  bulls.  One 
or  more  of  these  were  to  be  killed  by  Colonel  Boose* 
velt  and  one  by  myself.  It  seemed  promising  tint 
the  cows,  calf,  and  young  bull  could  be  got  on 


A  Kikuyu  Spearman 


The   Porters   Like   Elephant   Meat 


My   Masai   fcjais   and   Gunbearers 


WE    MARCH    FOR    THE    MOUNTAINS         185 

Mount  Elgon,  but  the  likelihood  of  getting  the  big 
bulls  was  far  from  encouraging.  Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor Jackson  thought  we  might  be  successful  if 
we  directed  our  efforts  to  the  southeastern  slopes  of 
the  mountain  and  avoided  the  northeastern  slopes 
along  the  River  Turkwel,  which  had  been  hunted  a 
good  deal  by  sportsmen  and  poachers.  If  we  were 
unable  to  get  the  big  bulls  on  Elgon  it  might  be 
necessary  to  make  a  special  trip  into  Uganda  for 
them.  However,  we  determined  to  try,  and  try  we 
did,  through  eight  weeks  of  hard  work  and  wonder- 
ful experiences  in  that  remote  district. 

At  Sergoi,  the  very  outpost  of  crude  civilization, 
we  were  warned  not  to  go  up  the  southern  side  of 
the  mountain  on  account  of  the  natives  that  live 
there.  We  were  told  that  they  were  inclined  to  be 
troublesome.  We  met  Captain  Ashton  and  Captain 
Black  coming  out  after  six  weeks  on  the  northern 
slopes.  They  reported  seeing  big  herds,  but  mostly 
cows  and  calves.  At  Sergoi  we  also  received  word 
from  Colonel  Roosevelt  and  at  once  marched  to  the 
Nzoia  River,  where  we  met  him. 

During  our  march  we  saw  no  elephants,  but  as 
we  neared  the  river  there  were  fresh  signs  of  ele- 
phant along  the  trail.  It  is  strikingly  indicative  of 
the  "Roosevelt  luck"  that  he  saw,  on  the  morning  we 
met  him,  the  only  elephants  that  he  had  seen  in  the 
district,  and  that  within  twenty- four  hours  from 
that  time  he  had  killed  three  elephants  and  Kermit 
one.  Of  this  number  two  cows  killed  by  Colonel 
Roosevelt  were  satisfactory  for  the  group,  and  also 


186  IN    AFRICA 

the  calf  killed  by  his  son,  Kermit.  This  left  one 
young  bull  and  two  large  bulls  still  to  be  secured, 
and  to  that  end  we  addressed  our  efforts  during  the 
succeeding  weeks. 

For  nine  days  we  hunted  the  Nzoia  River  region, 
but  without  seeing  an  elephant.  There  were  kon- 
goni,  zebra,  topi,  waterbuck,  wart-hogs,  reedbuck, 
oribi,  eland,  and  Uganda  cob,  but  scour  the  country 
as  we  would,  we  saw  no  sign  of  elephant  except  the 
broad  trails  in  the  grass  and  the  countless  evidences 
that  they  had  been  in  the  region  some  time  before. 
The  country  was  beautiful  and  wholesome.  There 
was  lots  of  game  for  our  table,  from  the  most  de- 
licious grouse  to  the  oribi,  whose  meat  is  the  tender- 
est  I  have  ever  eaten.  There  were  ducks  and  geese 
and  Kavirondo  crane;  and  sometimes  eland,  as  fine 
in  flavor  as  that  of  the  prize  steer  of  the  fat-stock 
show.  Then  there  were  reedbuck  and  cob,  both  of 
which  are  very  good  to  eat.  So  our  tins  of  camp  pie 
and  kippered  herring  and  ox  tongue  remained  un- 
opened and  we  lived  as  we  never  had  before. 

When  the  day's  hunt  was  over  the  sun  in  a  splen- 
did effort  painted  such  sublime  sunsets  above 
Mount  Elgon  as  I  had  never  dreamed  of.  And  the 
music  of  hundreds  of  African  birds  along  the  riv- 
er's edge  greeted  us  with  the  cool,  delightful  dawn. 
Purely  from  an  aesthetic  standpoint,  our  days  on 
the  Nzoia  were  ones  never  to  be  forgotten,  while 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  man  who  loves  to  see 
wild  game  and  doesn't  care  much  about  killing  it, 
the  bright,  clear  days  on  the  Nzoia  were  memorable 


WE    MARCH    FOR    THE    MOUNTAINS 


187 


ones. 


The  Roosevelt  party  went  its  way  back  to 
civilization;  the  Spaniards,  De  la  Huerta  and  the 
Duke  of  Penaranda,  came  and  made  a  flying  trip 
up  the  mountain  for  elephant,  then  returned  and 
went  their  way.  The  young  Baron  Rothschild 
came  on  to  the  plateau  for  a  couple  of  weeks  and 
then  disappeared.  And  still  we  lingered  on,  happy, 


With  Sharp  Stakes  in  Them 

healthy,   generally  hungry,  and  intoxicated  with 
the  languorous  murmur  of  Africa. 

Then  we  marched  for  the  mountain  on  our  big 
elephant  hunt.  The  details  of  those  twelve  days  of 
adventuring  in  districts,  some  of  which  were  prob- 
ably never  traversed  before  by  white  men,  our  ex- 
periences with  the  natives,  our  climb  up  the  side  of 
the  mountain  and  our  camp  in  the  crater;  our  icy 
mornings,  our  ascent  of  the  highest  peak,  and  our 
explorations  of  the  ancient  homes  of  the  cave- 


188  IN    AFRICA 

dwellers — all  are  part  of  a  remarkable  series  of 
events  that  have  nothing  to  do  with  an  elephant 
story.  In  the  forests  we  saw  numberless  old  ele- 
phant pits,  and  on  the  grassy  slopes  there  were 
mazes  of  elephants'  trails,  some  so  big  that  hun- 
dreds of  elephants  must  have  moved  along  them. 
But  we  saw  no  elephants.  We  scanned  the  hills  for 
miles  and  tramped  for  days  in  ideal  elephant 
country,  but  our  quest  was  all  in  vain.  Then  our 
food  supplies  ran  low,  our  last  bullock  was  killed, 
and  we  hurried  back  to  the  base  camp  on  the  river, 
a  hungry,  tired  band  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  men. 

The  matter  of  provisioning  a  large  number  of 
porters  far  from  the  railroad  is  a  serious  one.  In 
addition  to  carrying  the  safari  outfit,  the  porters 
must  carry  their  posho.,  or  cornmeal  ration,  and 
it  is  impossible  for  them  to  carry  more  than  a  lim- 
ited number  of  days'  rations.  So  the  farther  one 
gets  from  the  base  of  supplies  the  more  difficult  it 
is  to  move,  and  a  relay  system  must  be  employed. 
Porters  must  be  sent  back  for  food,  often  six  or 
eight  days;  or  else  a  bullock  wagon  must  be  used 
for  that  purpose.  In  our  safari  we  used  two 
wagons,  drawn  by  thirty  oxen,  to  supplement  the 
porters  in  keeping  up  food  supplies,  and  even  by  so 
doing  there  were  times  when  rations  ran  low.  In 
such  times  we  would  shoot  game  for  them,  either 
kongoni  or  zebra,  both  of  which  are  considered 
great  delicacies  by  the  black  man. 

However,  this  is  not  telling  about  my  memorable 
elephant  experiences  in  the  Guas  Ngishu  Plateau. 


WE    MARCH    FOR    THE    MOUNTAINS         189 

We  got  back  to  the  Xzoia  River  on  December 
third.  On  the  fifteenth,  after  many  more  unsuccess- 
ful attempts  to  get  in  touch  with  a  herd,  Mr.  Ake- 
ley  and  I  resolved  to  try  the  mountain  again.  We 
thought  that  perhaps  the  elephants  might  have 
moved  northward  along  the  eastern  slope,  and  so 
we  thought  we'd  push  clear  up  to  the  Turkwel 
River  and  find  out  beyond  question.  We  outfitted 
for  an  eight  days'  march,  carried  only  one  tent  and 
a  small  number  of  good  porters.  Only  the  abso- 
lute necessaries  were  taken,  for  we  expected  to 
move  fast  and  hard.  The  first  day  we  marched 
eight  hours,  crossed  the  Xzoia  River,  and  by  a 
curious  chance  at  once  struck  a  fresh  trail  which  was 
diagnosed  as  being  only  a  few  hours  old.  The  bark 
torn  from  trees  was  fresh  and  still  moist;  the  leaves 
of  the  branches  that  had  been  broken  off  as  the  ele- 
phants fed  along  the  way  were  still  unwithered, 
and  the  flowers  that  had  been  crushed  down  by  the 
great  feet  of  the  herd  had  lost  little  of  their  fresh- 
ness and  fragrance. 

The  trail  led  us  first  in  one  direction,  then  in 
another;  sometimes  it  was  a  big  trail  that  plowed 
through  the  long  grass  like  a  river,  with  little  tribu- 
taries branching  in  and  out  where  the  individual 
members  of  the  herd  had  swerved  out  of  the  main 
channel  to  feed  by  the  way.  And  sometimes  when 
all  the  herd  were  feeding,  the  main  trail  disap- 
peared, to  be  replaced  by  a  maze  of  lesser  trails 
leading  in  all  directions.  But  by  the  skilful  track- 
ing of  our  gunbearers  the  main  trail  would  be 


190  IN    AFRICA 

found  again  some  distance  onward.  We  followed 
the  trail  for  hours,  and  then,  night  coming  on,  we 
went  into  camp  near  a  small  stream,  choked  with 
luxuriant  vegetation.  Akeley  thought  he  heard  a 
faint  squeal  of  an  elephant  far  off,  and  while  the 
porters  made  camp  we  went  on  for  a  mile  or  so  to 
investigate.  But  no  further  sounds  indicated  the 
proximity  of  the  herd. 

Early  the  next  morning  we  took  up  the  trail 
again,  and  in  less  than  an  hour  my  Masai  sais 
pointed  off  to  a  distant  slope  a  couple  of  miles 
away,  where  a  black  line  appeared.  It  looked  like 
an  outcropping  of  rock.  Akeley  looked  at  it  and 
exclaimed,  "By  George,  I  believe  he's  got  them!" 
and  a  moment  later,  after  he  had  directed  his  glasses 
on  the  distant  spot,  he  said  briskly,  "That's  right, 
they're  over  there."  And  so,  for  the  first  time,  after 
having  scanned  suspicious-looking  spots  in  the  land- 
scape for  weeks  and  always  with  disappointment, 
I  saw  a  herd  of  real  live  elephants.  To  the  naked 
eye  they  looked  more  like  little  shifting  black 
beetles  than  anything  else,  but  in  the  glasses  they 
were  plainly  revealed  with  swaying  bodies  and  flap- 
ping ears  and  swinging  trunks. 

In  elephant  hunting  the  first  important  thing  to 
consider  is  the  wind,  for  the  elephant  is  very  keen- 
scented  and  is  quick  to  detect  a  breath  of  danger  in 
the  breeze.  Fortunately  we  had  seen  them  in  time. 
If  we  had  gone  ahead  a  few  hundred  yards  they 
would  have  got  our  wind  and  gone  away  in 
alarm,  but  this  had  not  occurred.  We  could  see 


Some    Kikuyu    Belles 


Wanderobo   Guides 


WE    MARCH    FOR    THE    MOUNTAINS         191 

that  they  were  feeding  quietly  and  without  the 
slightest  evidence  of  uneasiness. 

We  left  our  horses  and  the  porters  under  a  big 
tree  and  told  the  latter  to  come  on  if  they  heard 
any  firing ;  otherwise,  they  were  to  await  our  return. 
Then,  with  only  our  gunbearers  and  a  man  carry- 
ing Akeley's  large  camera,  we  circled  in  a  wide 
detour  until  we  were  safely  behind  the  elephants. 
The  wind  continued  favorable,  and  we  cautiously 
approached  the  brow  of  a  hill  near  where  we  had 
last  seen  them.  They  had  disappeared,  but  their 
trail  was  as  easy  to  follow  as  an  open  road.  Before 
reaching  the  brow  of  the  next  hill  one  of  the  gun- 
bearers  was  sent  up  a  tree  to  reconnoiter  the  coun- 
try beyond. 

"Hapa"  he  whispered,  as  he  carefully  climbed 
down  and  indicated  with  his  hand  that  they  were 
near.  Again  we  swung  in  a  wide  circle  and  came 
over  the  brow  of  the  next  hill.  There,  four  or 
five  hundred  yards  away,  was  the  herd  of  elephants, 
standing  idly  under  the  low  trees  that  studded  the 
opposite  slope.  There  were  between  forty  and 
fifty  of  them,  and  from  the  number  of  totos,  or 
calves,  we  assumed  that  many  of  the  big  ones  were 
cows.  We  studied  the  herd  for  some  minutes,  esti- 
mating the  ivory  and  trying  in  vain  to  pick  out  the 
bulls.  There  is  very  little  difference  between  the 
appearance  of  a  cow  and  a  bull  elephant  when  the 
latter  has  only  moderate-sized  tusks.  Usually  the 
tusks  of  the  male  are  heavier  and  thicker,  but  except 
for  this  distinction  there  is  very  little  noticeable  dif- 


192 


IN    AFRICA 


ference  between  the  two.  Of  course,  an  elephant 
with  gigantic  tusks  is  at  once  known  to  be  a  bull, 
but  if  he  has  small  tusks  it  is  a  matter  of  consid- 
erable guesswork. 

We  could  not  tell  which  ones  of  this  herd  were 
bulls,  but  assumed  that  there  must  surely  be  several 
small-sized  or  young  bulls  among  them.  We  de- 


Kongoni  on  Guard 

cided  to  go  nearer,  knowing  that  the  elephant's  eye- 
sight is  very  poor,  and  with  such  a  favoring  wind 
his  sense  of  smell  was  useless.  It  seemed  amazing 
that  they  did  not  see  us  as  we  walked  up  the  slope 
toward  them.  When  a  couple  of  hundred  yards 
away  we  climbed  a  tree  to  study  them  some  more. 
They  were  in  three  separate  groups,  each  of  which 
was  clustered  sleepy  and  motionless  under  the  trees. 
They  had  ceased  feeding  and  had  evidently  laid  up 


WE    MARCH    FOR    THE    MOUNTAINS         193 

for  their  midday  rest,  although  the  hour  was  hardly 
ten  in  the  morning. 

From  our  "observation  tower"  in  the  tree  we 
studied  the  three  groups  as  well  as  we  could.  So 
far  as  we  could  judge  there  were  at  least  three  bulls 
of  medium  size,  but  as  we  looked  those  three  lazily 
moved  off  toward  the  group  on  the  extreme  left. 
At  that  time  we  were  within  about  a  hundred  yards 


ir '" ''""  >'(' ''      ''"Hf' 

""•• 


The  Policemen  of  the  Plains 

of  the  nearest  group  with  the  wind  still  favorable, 
and  except  for  one  thing  we  might  easily  have  crept 
up  through  the  grass  to  within  thirty  or  forty  yards. 
Directly  between  us  and  the  elephants  were  two 
kongoni,  one  lying  down  and  the  other  alert  and 
erect. 

The  kongoni  is  the  policeman  of  the  plains.  He 
is  the  self-appointed  guardian  of  all  the  other  ani- 
mals, and  for  some  strange,  unselfish  reason,  he 


194  IN    AFRICA 

always  does  sentinel  duty  for  the  others.  His  eyes 
are  so  keen  that  he  sees  your  hat  when  you  appear 
over  the  horizon  two  miles  away,  and  from  that  mo- 
ment he  never  loses  sight  of  you.  If  you  approach 
too  near  he  whistles  shrilly,  and  every  other  animal 
within  several  hundred  yards  is  on  the  alert  and 
apprehensive.  The  kongoni  often  risks  his  own  life 
to  warn  other  herds  of  animals  of  the  approach  of 
danger,  and  if  I  were  going  to  write  an  animal 
story  I'd  use  the  kongoni  as  my  hero.  The  hunters 
hate  him  for  the  trouble  he  gives  them,  but  a  fair- 
minded  man  can  not  help  but  recognize  the  heroic, 
self-sacrificing  qualities  of  the  big,  awkward,  vigi- 
lant antelope.  Why  these  two  sentinels  had  not 
seen  us  is  still  and  always  will  be  a  mystery,  but  it 
is  certain  that  they  had  not. 

At  the  same  time  we  knew  that  any  attempt  to 
approach  nearer  would  alarm  them  and  they  in  turn 
would  sound  the  shrill  tocsin  of  warning  to  the  un- 
suspecting elephant  herd,  in  which  event  we  might 
have  to  track  the  elephants  for  miles  until  they  set- 
tled down  again.  So  we  cautiously  climbed  down, 
retreated  below  the  edge  of  the  hill,  and  worked  our 
way  up  in  the  lee  of  the  group  farthest  to  our  left 
in  the  expectation  of  finding  the  three  bulls.  From 
tree  to  tree,  and  in  the  protection  of  large  ant-hills, 
we  moved  forward  until  we  were  less  than  fifty 
yards  from  the  elephants.  Then  we  studied  them 
again,  but  could  not  locate  the  bulls. 

Probably  at  this  time  something  may  have  oc- 
curred to  make  the  elephants  nervous.  Perhaps  the 


WE    MARCH    FOR    THE    MOUNTAINS         195 

warning  cry  of  a  bird  or  the  suspicious  rustling  of 
our  footsteps  in  the  tall  grass,  but  at  any  rate  the 
herd  began  to  move  slowly  away.  Two  of  the  larger 
groups  marched  solemnly  down  the  slope  away 
from  us  and  the  other  disappeared  among  the  low 
scrub  trees  to  our  right.  We  followed  the  two  larger 
groups  and  soon  were  again  within  a  few  yards  of 
them.  An  ant-hill  four  or  five  feet  high  gave  us 
some  protection,  and  over  the  top  of  this  we  watched 
the  enormous  animals  as  they  stood  under  the  trees 
ahead  of  us.  While  watching  these  two  large 
groups  we  forgot  about  the  one  that  had  disap- 
peared to  the  right. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  gunbearers  whispered  a 
warning  and  we  turned  to  see  this  group  only  a 
few  yards  from  us  and  bearing  directly  down 
toward  the  ant-hill  where  we  crouched  in  the  grass. 
They  had  not  yet  seen  us,  but  it  seemed  a  miracle 
that  they  did  not.  If  one  of  us  had  moved  in  the 
slightest  degree  they  would  have  charged  into  us 
with  irresistible  force.  We  held  our  guns  and  our 
breath  while  these  big  animals,  by  a  most  fortunate 
chance,  passed  by  us  to  the  windward  of  the  ant- 
hill, not  more  than  thirty  feet  away.  If  they  had 
passed  to  the  leeward  side  they  would  have  got 
our  wind  and  trouble  would  have  been  unavoidable. 
I  took  a  surreptitious  snap-shot  of  them  after  they 
had  passed  by,  and  for  the  first  time  in  some  min- 
utes took  a  long  breath. 

Then  we  circled  the  herd  again  and  came  up  to 
them.  They  were  now  thoroughly  uneasy.  They 


196 


IN    AFRICA 


knew  that  some  invisible  hostile  influence  was 
abroad  in  the  land,  but  they  could  not  locate  in 
which  direction  it  lay.  We  saw  the  sensitive  trunks 
feeling  for  the  scent  and  saw  the  big  ears  moving 
uneasily  back  and  forth.  One  large  cow  with  a 
broken  tusk  was  facing  us,  vaguely  conscious  that 
danger  lay  in  that  direction.  And  then,  by  some 


The  Rear-guard 

code  of  signals  known  only  to  the  elephant  world, 
the  greater  number  of  elephants  moved  off  down 
the  slope  and  up  the  opposite  slope.  Only  the  big, 
aggressive  cow  and  four  or  five  smaller  animals  re- 
mained behind  as  a  rear-guard.  She  stood  as  she 
had  stood  for  some  moments,  gazing  directly  at  us 
and  nervously  waving  her  ears  and  trunk. 

Akeley  climbed  to  the  top  of  an  ant-hill  and 
made  some  photographs  showing  the  big  cow  and 


WE    MARCH    FOR    THE    MOUNTAINS         197 

her  companions  in  the  foreground,  while  off  on  the 
neighboring  hillside  three  distinct  groups  of  ele- 
phants were  in  view.  The  latter  were  thoroughly 
alarmed  and  moved  away  very  swiftly  for  some 
distance  and  then  came  to  a  pause.  The  big  cow 
and  her  attendants  then  moved  off,  feeling  that  the 
retreat  had  been  successfully  effected.  Once  more 
we  followed  them  and  came  up  to  them,  and  then 
once  more  we  were  flanked  by  a  number  of  ele- 
phants that  had  previously  disappeared  over  the 
hill.  They  had  swung  around  and  were  returning 
directly  toward  where  we  stood,  unsuspecting. 

We  barely  had  time  to  fall  back  to  some  small 
bushes,  where  we  waited  while  the  flanking  party 
approached.  They  came  almost  toward  us,  and 
when  only  about  fifty  feet  away  I  ventured  a  photo- 
graph, feeling  that,  if  successful,  it  would  be  the 
closest  picture  ever  made  of  a  herd  of  wild  ele- 
phants. I  used  a  Verascope,  a  small  stereoscopic 
French  machine  whose  "click"  is  almost  noiseless. 
The  elephants  advanced  and  we  huddled  together 
with  rifles  ready  in  the  patch  of  bushes.  It  seemed 
a  certainty  that  they  would  charge,  and  that  if  our 
bullets  could  not  turn  them  we  would  be  completely 
annihilated.  But  as  yet  there  was  no  sign  that  they 
saw  us,  or,  if  they  did,  they  could  not  distinguish 
our  motionless  forms  from  the  foliage  of  the  scrub. 

At  last,  the  foremost  elephant,  barely  thirty  feet 
from  us,  came  to  the  trail  in  the  grass  by  which  we 
had  retreated  when  we  first  saw  them.  The  trunk, 
sweeping  ahead  of  it  as  if  feeling  for  the  scent  of 


198 


IN    AFRICA 


danger,  paused  an  instant  as  it  reached  the  trail  and 
then  the  animal  drew  back  sharply  as  though  stung. 
Then  it  whirled  about  and  the  herd  went  crashing 
away  through  the  sparse  undergrowth.  It  was  a 
time  of  the  utmost  nervous  tension,  and  I  don't 
believe  the  human  system  could  undergo  a  pro- 
longed strain  of  that  severity. 

During  all  this  time  we  had  not  succeeded  in 


It  Started  Back  as  Though  Stung 

positively  locating  a  bull  elephant.  Of  all  the 
forty-four  elephants  that  were  visible  at  any  one 
time,  there  was  not  one  that  we  could  feel  safe  in 
identifying  as  the  elephant  needed  for  the  group. 
Three  more  times  we  stalked  the  herd  to  very  close 
range,  but  they  were  now  so  restless  that  nothing 
could  be  ascertained.  So  finally  we  decided  to  get 
ahead  of  them  and  watch  them  as  they  passed  us, 
but  just  as  we  had  reached  a  point  where  they  were 


WE    MARCH    FOR    THE    MOUNTAINS         199 

approaching,  the  two  kongoni  gave  a  shrill  alarm 
and  the  entire  herd  made  off  in  tremendous  haste. 
Later,  on  our  way  back  to  camp,  we  came  up  with 
one  group  of  six  or  seven,  but  they  seemed  too 
angry  and  aggressive  to  take  needless  chances  with, 
so  we  watched  them  a  while  and  then  left  them  be- 
hind. 

During  all  that  day  we  were  with  the  herd  neany 
five  hours,  five  hours  of  intense  nervous  strain, 
during  which  time  there  was  never  a  moment  when 
we  were  not  in  some  danger  of  discovery.  But  in 
spite  of  the  aggressive  bearing  of  some  of  them 
at  one  time  or  another,  I  had  the  feeling  that  the 
elephants  would  run  away  from  us  the  instant  they 
definitely  determined  wrhere  we  were.  And  it  was 
while  laboring  under  this  impression  that  I  met  my 
second  Mount  Elgon  herd  of  elephants  and  learned 
by  bitter  experience  that  the  impression  was  wholly 
false.  But  that  is  still  another  story,  the  story  of 
being  charged  five  times  in  one  day  by  angry  ele- 
phants, and  how  I  killed  a  bull  elephant  for  the 
Akeley  group. 


CHAPTER  XII 

"  'TWAS  THE  DAY  BEFORE  CHRISTMAS."  PHOTOGRAPH- 
ING A  CHARGING  ELEPHANT.    CORNERING  A 
WOUNDED  ELEPHANT  IN  A  RIVER  JUNGLE 
GROWTH.   A  THRILLING  CHARGE. 
HASSAN'S  COURAGE 

ON  the  night  of  December  the  twenty-third  I  sat 
out  in  a  boma  watching  for  lions.  Xone  came  and  at 
the  first  crack  of  dawn  my  two  gunbearers  and  I 
crawled  out  of  the  tangled  mass  of  thorn  branches, 
and  prepared  to  return  to  camp  two  miles  away. 
We  were  expecting  my  sais  to  arrive  with  my  horse 
soon  after  daybreak,  and  while  waiting  for  him  to 
come,  and  for  my  gunbearers  to  get  the  blankets 
tied  up,  I  went  across  to  a  neighboring  swamp  in  the 
hope  of  getting  a  bushbuck.  I  was  about  three  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  boma  when  my  attention  was 
drawn  to  a  movement  in  the  trees  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  away.  I  looked  and  saw  what  I  first  thought 
was  a  herd  of  zebras  coming  toward  me.  They 
looked  dark  against  the  faint  light  of  early  dawn 
and  seemed  surprisingly  big.  Then  I  realized! 
They  were  elephants !  I  had  only  my  little  gun  and 
my  big  double-barreled  cordite  was  at  the  boma, 
three  hundred  yards  away.  Breathlessly  I  ran  for  it, 
fearing  that  the  elephants  might  cut  me  off  before 

200 


A    THRILLING    CHARGE  201 

I  could  reach  it.  There  seemed  to  be  from  seven  to 
ten  of  them,  but  they  soon  disappeared  in  the  trees, 
going  at  a  fast  swinging  walk.  Hassan,  my  first 
gunbearer,  stopped  to  slip  a  couple  of  solid  shells  in 
the  gun  while  I  ran  to  the  top  of  a  hill  in  the  hope 
of  catching  sight  of  the  herd.  But  they  had  dis- 
appeared entirely.  We  soon  found  the  trail 
strongly  marked  in  the  dew-covered  grass.  My  sais 
then  appeared  with  my  horse.  He  had  seen  two  ele- 
phants and  they  had  taken  alarm  at  his  scent  and 
were  rapidly  fleeing.  So  I  galloped  back  to  camp 
to  tell  the  rest  of  the  party  and  to  prepare  for  a 
systematic  pursuit. 

After  breakfast,  with  Akeley,  Stephenson,  Clark 
and  our  gunbearers,  the  trail  was  again  picked  up 
where  I  had  left  it.  It  was  then  a  little  past  nine 
and  the  elephants  had  two  hours'  start  of  us.  Their 
trail  indicated  that  they  were  moving  fast  and  so 
we  prepared  for  a  long  chase.  For  nearly  two  hours 
we  followed,  Akeley  tracking  writh  remarkable  pre- 
cision. Sometimes  the  trail  was  faint  and  merged 
with  older  trails,  but  by  looking  carefully  the  fresh 
trail  wras  kept.  Soon  wre  began  to  see  newly  broken 
branches  from  the  trees  which  indicated  that  the 
elephants  were  getting  quieted  down  and  were  be- 
ginning to  feed.  It  must  have  been  about  eleven 
o'clock  when  Stephenson  saw  the  herd  far  across  on 
another  slope.  There  were  two  of  the  animals  dis- 
tinctly visible  and  another  partly  visible.  They  were 
resting  under  some  of  the  many  acacia  trees  that 
dappled  the  slope  of  the  hill.  We  stopped  to  ex- 


202  IN    AFRICA 

amine  them  with  our  glasses.  One  seemed  to  have 
no  tusks,  but  we  finally  saw  that  it  had  very  small 
ones.  The  other  and  larger  one  had  one  good  tusk 
and  one  that  was  broken  off.  After  about  twenty 
minutes  we  left  our  horses  and  with  only  our  gun- 
bearers  moved  across  toward  them,  thinking  that 
there  must  be  others  that  we  had  not  yet  seen.  The 
wind  was  bad,  sometimes  sweeping  up  in  our  direc- 
tion through  the  depression  between  the  two  slopes 
and  a  moment  later  coming  from  another  direction. 
At  one  time  the  wind  blew  from  us  directly  toward 
the  elephants  and  we  expected  to  see  them  take 
alarm  and  run  away.  But  they  did  not.  We  circled 
around  and  approached  them  from  a  better  direc- 
tion and  advanced  to  within  a  couple  of  hundred 
yards  without  being  detected.  We  then  stopped  for 
a  conference.  If  there  was  a  young  bull  I  was  to 
kill  it  for  the  Akeley  group;  if  there  was  a  large 
bull  Stephenson  was  to  kill  it  for  himself;  if  there 
were  only  cows  we  were  not  to  shoot  unless  abso- 
lutely necessary.  In  this  event,  Akeley  was  to  take 
his  camera,  and  with  "Fred,"  "Jimmy"  Clark, 
and  I  as  escorts  with  our  double-barreled  cordite 
rifles,  was  to  advance  until  he  could  get  a  photo- 
graph that  would  show  an  elephant  the  full  size  of 
the  plate.  If  the  elephants  charged  we  were  to  yell 
and  try  to  turn  them  without  shooting;  if  they  came 
on  we  were  to  shoot  to  hurt,  but  not  to  kill. 

Fred  was  on  one  side  of  "Ake,"  Jimmy  on  an- 
other, and  I  on  Fred's  left.  Thus  we  slowly  moved 
toward  the  elephants.  A  reedbuck  was  startled  out 


A  Nandi  Spearman 


In  the  Deep  Jungle  Growth 


As  the   Elephant    Fell 


A    THRILLING    CHARGE  203 

of  the  grass  and  noisily  ran  away,  giving  the  alarm. 
The  elephants  began  feeling  in  the  air  with  their 
trunks  and  their  ears  began  to  wave  uneasily.  Fi- 
nally they  turned  and  seemed  about  to  go  away. 
Then  Fred  saw,  a  short  distance  to  the  right,  some 
more  elephants  that  had  previously  been  hidden  by 
the  trees.  We  both  whispered  to  Ake  to  stop,  but 
he  either  did  not  hear  us  on  account  of  his  heavy  sun 
hat  or  else  was  too  intent  upon  the  elephants  in 
front  to  heed. 

"Ake,"  whispered  Fred,  "there's  a  good  bull  over 
there  with  good  tusks.  Wait  a  minute."  But  Ake, 
camera  in  position,  continued  to  advance  and  so  we 
followed.  The  elephants,  a  big  cow  and  a  half- 
grown  one,  were  now  facing  us  with  ears  wide 
spread.  They  looked  very  nasty.  I  thought  they 
would  turn  and  run  away  and  was  not  uneasy  about 
the  outcome.  But  to  my  great  surprise  they  started 
toward  us,  first  slowly  and  then  at  a  rapid  trot, 
steadily  gaining  in  swiftness.  It  was  a  real  charge 
and  we  yelled  to  scare  them  off.  The  big  cow  was 
in  the  lead  and  she  had  not  the  slightest  intention 
of  being  scared.  Her  one  idea  was  to  annihilate  us. 
We  raised  our  rifles  and  continued  to  yell,  but  on 
she  rushed.  She  was  only  thirty  yards  away  when 
Jimmy  fired,  Fred  fired,  and  then  I.  The  huge 
animal  sank  on  her  four  knees  and  the  half-grown 
one  turned  off  and  stopped,  confused  and  angry. 
Akeley  had  got  a  splendid  photograph  of  the 
charging  cow  and  now  he  took  one  of  the  smaller 
beast  before  we  approached  the  cow.  Upon  our  ad- 


204  IN    AFRICA 

vance  the  smaller  one  ran  away  but  the  big  cow 
never  moved  again.  She  was  stone  dead.  The  three 
bullets  had  struck  her,  Jimmy's  high  as  she  was 
head  on,  Fred's  between  the  eye  and  ear  as  she 
swung,  and  mine  just  behind  the  orifice  of  the  ear 
as  the  head  was  still  further  swung  by  the  shock  of 
Fred's  bullet.  The  elephant  rested  on  her  four 
knees  in  an  upright  position,  quite  lifelike  in  ap- 
pearance. The  small  elephant  ran  off  toward  those 
that  we  had  seen  on  our  right.  I  suggested  that  we 
immediately  follow  the  herd  in  the  hope  that  a 
young  bull  might  be  found  among  them.  So  off 
we  went  and  in  a  few  moments  we  saw  them  to 
our  right,  apparently  returning  to  where  the  cow 
had  been  killed.  It  is  entirely  likely  that  the  big 
broken-tusked  cow  was  going  back  to  make  trouble 
for  us.  Colonel  Roosevelt  had  a  similar  experience 
with  a  bull  elephant  that  returned  and  charged  the 
hunters  as  they  were  standing  about  one  that  they 
had  just  killed. 

As  the  elephants  moved  along  slowly  we  paral- 
leled them  and  studied  them  as  well  as  we  could. 
One  was  the  big  cow  with  the  one  broken  and  one 
good  tusk.  She  was  leading  the  group,  and  was 
doubtless  a  vicious  animal.  She  was  an  enormous 
beast,  probably  over  eleven  feet  in  height.  Another 
was  the  half-grown  elephant,  then  a  smaller  one, 
and  lastly  a  good-sized  elephant  with  two  fairly 
good  tusks.  We  tried  to  determine  the  sex  of  this 
last  one,  I  hoping  that  it  was  a  bull,  but  fearing 
otherwise.  Ake  thought  it  was  a  cow  with  tusks 


A    THRILLING    CHARGE  205 

about  twelve  or  fourteen  inches  long,  but  the  fact 
that  its  breasts  showed  no  signs  of  milk  fullness  led 
me  to  hope  that  it  was  a  young  bull,  and  I  deter- 
mined to  act  on  that  supposition.  I  at  once  advanced 
with  my  big  gun  in  readiness.  The  two  largest  ele- 
phants at  the  same  moment  whirled  around  and 
started  swiftly  toward  us.  I  rested  my  gun  against 
the  side  of  a  small  tree  and  after  their  onward  rush 


They  Whirled  Around 

had  brought  them  within  fifty  yards  I  fired  as  Ake 
suggested,  "just  between  the  eye  and  ear."  The 
animal  swerved  but  did  not  fall.  Akeley  and 
Stephenson  fired  at  the  big  cow  and  under  the  shock 
of  their  heavy  shells  she  dropped  to  her  knees,  then 
sprang  up  and  came  on  again.  Once  more  they 
shot  and  she  again  went  down  on  her  knees,  but  got 
up,  shaking  her  head  and  turned  a  little  to  one  side. 
Stephenson  started  to  shoot  her  again,  but  Ake 
shouted,  "Don't  shoot  her  again.  She's  got 


206  IN    AFRICA 

enough."  Mr.  Stephenson  followed  her  for  some 
distance  and  decided  that  she  was  going  to  recover, 
and  so  came  back.  In  the  meantime  my  elephant, 
with  the  two  smaller  ones,  was  moving  off  to  the 
left,  and  with  my  small  rifle  I  fired  at  its  backbone, 
the  only  vulnerable  spot  visible.  A  spurt  of  dust 
rose,  but  the  elephant  did  not  stop.  So,  accom- 
panied by  Hassan  and  Sulimani,  my  two  gunbear- 
ers,  I  started  after  the  wrounded  elephant  and  the 
two  younger  ones.  The  big  one  wras  moving  slowly, 
as  though  badly  wounded.  The  wind  was  bad,  so 
we  circled  around  to  head  them  off  and  in  doing  so 
completely  lost  them.  Presently  we  struck  their 
trail  and  followed  them  by  the  blood-stains  on  the 
grass. 

After  some  minutes  we  saw  them  moving  along 
in  the  tall  grass  near  the  Nzoia  River.  Again  we 
swiftly  circled  to  head  them  off  before  they  could 
cross  the  river,  but  when  we  reached  a  point  where 
they  had  last  been  seen  they  had  disappeared  in  the 
dense  tangle  of  trees  and  high  reeds  that  grew  at 
the  river's  edge.  We  thought  they  would  cross  the 
river,  so  we  rushed  after  them.  Suddenly  Hassan 
yelled  "Here  they  come!"  and,  ahead  of  us,  came 
the  large  elephant,  its  head  rising  from  above  the 
sea  of  grass  like  the  bow  of  a  battleship  bearing 
rapidly  down  upon  us.  The  two  smaller  ones  were 
almost  invisible,  only  the  back  of  one  appearing 
above  the  reeds.  We  were  out  in  the  open  and  the 
situation  looked  decidedly  dangerous.  I  hastily 
drew  a  bead  on  the  big  one's  forehead,  fired,  but  it 


Bow  On 


The   Bull   Elephant 


Cooking    Elephant    Meat 


A    THRILLING    CHARGE  207 

didn't  stop.  There  was  barely  time  for  us  to  get  out 
of  the  way.  I  ran  sideways  toward  a  little  mound 
that  furnished  some  protection,  while  Hassan,  with 
a  coolness  and  courage  that  I  both  admired  and  en- 
vied, stood  still  until  the  big  elephant  was  within  ten 
feet  of  him  and  then  leaped  to  one  side  as  the  three 
beasts  swept  by  him,  carried  onwrard  by  the  impetus 
of  their  mad  rush.  As  the  big  one  passed  it  made  a 
vicious  swing  at  him  with  its  trunk. 

Fortunately  the  elephants  continued  in  their 
course  and  we  followed  them  with  my  big  rifle  again 
reloaded  and  ready.  Once  more  they  turned  in 
toward  the  river  and  were  completely  swallowed  up 
in  the  tall  reeds.  We  again  waded  in  after  them  and 
had  gone  only  a  few  yards  when  we  once  more  saw 
the  angry  head  of  the  big  one  looming  up  as  it  came 
toward  us.  I  fired  point-blank  at  the  base  of  the 
trunk  and  the  beast  stopped  suddenly.  Then  it 
slowly  turned  and  as  it  was  about  to  disappear  in 
the  tall  elephant  grass  again  I  fired  at  its  backbone. 
The  huge  bulk  collapsed  and  disappeared,  buried  in 
the  reeds.  Hassan  yelled  that  it  was  dead,  but  we 
couldn't  see  for  the  grass.  The  situation  now  was 
perilous  in  the  extreme.  The  river  made  a  sharp 
bend  at  this  point  like  an  incomplete  letter  O,  with  a 
narrow  neck  of  land  through  which  the  elephants 
had  passed  when  I  had  shot.  At  the  narrow  neck  it 
was  about  a  hundred  feet  across  while  the  depth  of 
the  "O"  was  about  three  hundred  feet  and  the  width 
about  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  This  small  penin- 
sula was  matted  with  a  jungle  growth  of  high  grass 


208 


IN    AFRICA 


and  reeds  six  or  eight  feet  tall,  while  the  edges  of 
the  river  were  thickly  wooded  with  small  trees  tan- 


A  waiting  the  Charge 


gled  together  and  interlacing  their  branches  over 
the  narrow  but  deep  waters  of  the  Nzoia. 

Down  in  the  jungle  depths  of  this  peninsula 
there  was  a  violent  commotion  among  the  low 
branches  of  these  trees,  an  indication  that  the  ani- 


A    THRILLING    CHARGE  209 

mal  was  not  dead,  but  was  thrashing  madly  about 
as  if  desperately  wounded.  Hassan  said  it  was  the 
young  elephant  and  that  the  older  one  was  dead, 
but  this  could  not  be  determined  without  pushing 
on  through  the  reeds  until  we  would  be  almost  upon 
them.  This  course  seemed  too  dangerous  to  try. 

The  river  at  this  point  was  absolutely  impassable 
for  animals.  The  banks  were  ten  feet  high  and  per- 
pendicular. The  water  was  perhaps  five  or  six  feet 
deep  and  the  width  of  the  swift  stream  not  over 
twenty  or  thirty  feet.  The  trees  had  interlaced  their 
roots  and  branches  across  the  river  and  in  the  water. 
Xo  animal,  not  a  tree  climber,  could  possibly  cross 
the  stream  on  account  of  the  straight  up  and  down 
banks. 

So  after  a  time  we  crept  along  through  the  grass 
at  the  edge  of  the  stream  until  we  reached  a  point 
probably  forty  yards  from  where  the  elephants 
doubtless  were,  although  quite  hidden  from  our 
view.  There  was  still  a  tremendous  threshing  in  the 
low  branches  of  the  trees  and  in  order  to  see  the 
animals  we  had  to  creep  cautiously  across  the  penin- 
sula to  a  point  about  half-way,  where  a  large,  rotten, 
dead  tree  stood.  This  gave  us  cover  and  from  its 
screen  we  could  see  the  three  elephants,  only  fifteen 
yards  away.  The  head  of  the  big  one  was  still  up 
and  it  was  turned  directly  at  us.  It  was  so  close 
and  so  big  that  the  effect  was  terrifying. 

"Mkubwa"  whispered  Sulimani,  and  that  means 
"big."  So  the  big  elephant,  instead  of  being  dead, 
was  still  alive,  with  an  impassable  river  at  its  feet 


210  IN    AFRICA 

on  one  side,  a  dense  tangle  of  trees  on  two  other 
sides,  and  with  a  narrow  open  aisle  between  it  and 
ourselves.  The  two  smaller  elephants  were  at  its 
side.  To  see  to  fire  I  had  to  step  out  from  the  tree 
and  expose  myself,  and  as  I  stepped  out  the 
wounded  beast  saw  me  and  reared  its  head  as  if  to 
make  a  final  rush.  I  fired  point-blank;  it  swung 
around  and  a  second  shot  sent  it  down.  Hassan 
grabbed  my  arm  and  told  me  to  hurry  back  before 
the  two  smaller  elephants  charged.  If  they  did  so 
it  might  be  necessary  to  shoot  them,  which  we  didn't 
want  to  do.  So  we  ran  swiftly  back  to  the  edge  of 
the  river  and  waited.  But  all  was  quiet,  and  after  a 
time  we  climbed  across  the  river  on  the  interlacing 
branches,  circled  around  to  where  the  elephants 
were  visible  just  across  the  stream  and  scared  the 
two  smaller  ones  away.  Once  more  we  swung  across 
from  branch  to  branch  over  the  swift  waters  of  the 
river  and  reached  the  other  bank  where  lay  the 
mountainous  bulk  of  the  dead  elephant.  It  was  a 
young  bull  about  eight  feet  high  and  with  two  well- 
shaped  tusks  twenty-two  inches  long  in  the  open, 
or  approximately  thirty-eight  inches  in  all. 

Sulimani  was  sent  to  notify  Mr.  Akeley  and  Mr. 
Clark,  and  after  a  long  search  found  them,  and  to- 
gether they  arrived  a  couple  of  hours  later,  followed 
by  gunbearers  and  saises.  Mr.  Stephenson  had 
gone  back  to  camp  to  see  that  salt  and  supplies,  with 
one  tent,  were  sent  out. 

Then  began  the  work  of  measuring  the  elephant, 
a  work  that  must  be  done  most  thoroughly  when  the 


A    THRILLING    CHARGE  211 

trophy  is  to  be  mounted  entire.  There  were  dozens 
of  measurements  of  every  part  of  the  body,  enough 
to  make  a  dress  for  a  woman,  and  then  came  the 
skinning,  a  prodigious  task  that  took  all  of  the  late 
afternoon  and  evening.  We  investigated  the  po- 
sition of  an  elephant's  heart  which  Kermit  Roose- 
velt had  said  was  up  in  the  upper  third  or  at  the  top 
of  the  second  third  of  the  body,  a  spot  which  must 
be  reached  by  a  shot  directed  through  the  point  of 
the  ear  as  it  lay  back.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  an  ele- 
phant's heart  lies  against  the  brisket,  about  ten  or 
eleven  inches  from  the  bottom  of  the  breast.  A 
broadside  shot  through  the  front  leg  at  the  elbow 
would  penetrate  the  heart. 

At  nine  o'clock,  Christmas  Eve,  the  tent  arrived 
and  was  soon  put  up  in  the  jungle  of  high  grass  at 
the  middle  of  the  little  peninsula.  A  more  African 
scene  can  not  be  imagined.  The  porter's  fires,  over 
each  of  which  sticks  spitted  with  elephant  meat  en 
brochette  were  cooking,  imparted  a  weird  look  to 
the  river  jungle  grass  and  spectral  trees. 

At  ten  o'clock  we  had  our  dinner  and  at  eleven 
we  put  on  our  pajamas  and  with  the  camp-fire  burn- 
ing before  the  tent  and  the  armed  askaris  pacing 
back  and  forth,  gave  ourselves  up  to  lazy  talk,  then 
meditation  and  then  sound  sleep. 

It  was  a  wonderful  day — one  always  to  be  re- 
membered. 

The  next  day,  Christmas,  came  without  the  usual 
customs  of  Christmas  morn.  In  the  forenoon  we 
stuck  with  the  bull  elephant,  getting  its  skin  and 


212  IN    AFRICA 

bones  ready  for  transportation  back  to  camp;  and 
in  the  afternoon  came  the  work  of  saving  the  skull 
and  part  of  the  skin  of  the  cow  elephant.  The  por- 
ters must  have  thought  the  day  a  wonderful  one, 
for  they  ate  and  gorged  on  elephant  meat  until  they 
could  hardly  move. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  THE  SWAMPS  ON  THE  GUAS  NGISHU.    BEATING  FOE 
LIONS  WE  CAME  UPON  A  STRANGE  AND  FASCINAT- 
ING WILD  BEAST,  WHICH  BECAME  AT- 
TACHED TO  OUR  PARTY.    THE  LIT- 
TLE WANDEROBO  DOG 

ONE  of  the  most  exciting  phases  of  African  hunt- 
ing is  the  beating  of  swamps  for  lion.  A  long 
skirmish  line  of  native  porters  is  sent  in  at  one 
end  of  the  swamp  and,  like  a  gigantic  comb,  sweeps 
every  live  thing  ahead  of  it  as  it  advances  through 
the  reeds.  All  kinds  of  swamp  life  are  stirred  into 
action,  and  a  fairly  large  swamp  will  yield  forth 
the  contents  of  a  pretty  respectable  menagerie. 
Sometimes  a  hyena  or  two  will  be  flushed  and  once 
in  a  while  a  lion  will  be  driven  out. 

It  is  the  constant  expectation  of  the  last-named 
animal  that  gives  such  keen  and  long  sustained  in- 
terest to  the  work  of  beating  a  swamp.  One  never 
knows  what  to  expect.  A  suspicious  stir  in  the  reeds 
may  mean  a  lion  or  only  a  hyena;  an  enormous 
crashing  may  sound  like  a  herd  of  elephants,  but 
finally  resolve  itself  into  a  badly  frightened  reed- 
buck.  Most  of  the  time  you  expect  reedbuck,  but 
all  the  time  you  have  to  be  ready  for  lion.  As  a 
general  thing  a  lion  will  slink  along  in  the  reeds 

213 


214  IN    AFRICA 

ahead  of  the  beaters  and  not  reveal  himself  until  he 
is  driven  to  the  end  of  the  cover.  Then  he  will  grunt 
warningly  or  show  an  ear  or  a  lashing  tail  above  the 
reeds,  and  instantly  every  one  is  in  a  state  of  in- 
tense expectancy.  What  the  next  move  will  be  no 
one  knows,  but  it  is  more  than  likely  to  be  something 
of  a  supremely  dramatic  sort. 

One  day  we  were  beating  swamps  on  the  Guas 
Ngishu  Plateau.  Lions  seemed  to  be  numerous  in 
that  district.  Two  days  before  I  had  killed  two 
lions  near  by,  and  during  the  morning  Stephenson 
and  I  had  each  killed  a  lioness  in  the  same  line  of 
marshy  reed  beds.  We  now  intended  advancing  to 
the  next  large  swamp  of  the  chain  and  see  whether 
a  large,  black-maned  lion  might  not  be  routed  out. 

Conditions  seemed  propitious,  for  in  this  self- 
same swamp  Colonel  Roosevelt  had  seen  the  best 
lion  of  his  trip  some  weeks  before.  Perhaps  the  lion 
might  still  be  there. 

The  campaign  was  planned  with  great  thorough- 
ness. Forty  or  fifty  porters  were  formed  into  the 
customary  skirmish  line  and  on  each  side  we  paral- 
leled the  beaters  with  our  rifles.  At  the  word  of 
command  the  column  began  to  advance  and  the  in- 
terest reached  a  fever  heat.  The  swamp  was  five  or 
six  hundred  yards  long,  and  for  the  first  three  hun- 
dred yards  nothing  of  a  thrilling  sort  occurred. 
The  shouts  of  the  beaters  blended  into  a  rhythmic, 
melodious  chant  and  the  swish  of  their  sticks  as 
they  thrashed  the  reeds  was  enough  to  make  even 
the  king  of  beasts  apprehensive. 


Abdi,  the  Somali   Head-man 


Along   the    Nzoia   River 


Beating   a   Swamp    for   Lions 


A    FASCINATING    WILD    BEAST  215 

Over  on  my  side  of  the  swamp  there  was  a  wide 
extension  of  dry  reeds  and  bushes  through  which 
I  was  obliged  to  go  in  order  to  keep  in  touch  with 
the  skirmish  line  of  porters.  We  had  got  three- 
quarters  the  full  length  of  the  swamp  and  any 
moment  might  reasonably  expect  to  hear  from  a 
lion  if  there  was  one  ahead  of  us.  Every  rifle  was 
at  readiness  and  the  porters  were  advancing  less 
impetuously.  In  fact,  they  were  pretending  to  go 
forward  without  doing  so. 

Suddenly  a  wild  shout  from  a  porter  near  by, 
then  a  hurried  retreat  of  other  porters,  and  then  a 
cautious  advance  gave  sign  that  something  des- 
perate was  about  to  happen.  We  caught  a  glimpse 
of  reeds  moving  about  and  then  saw  something 
crouched  in  the  grass  beneath.  Two  ears  were 
finally  distinguished  among  the  tangle  of  rushes, 
and  there  was  no  further  doubt  about  it.  It  was  not 
a  lion.  It  wasn't  even  a  hyena. 

It  was  a  little  dog.  His  presence  in  the  middle 
of  that  swamp  was  about  as  logical  as  if  he  had  been 
a  musk-ox  or  a  walrus.  However,  there  he  was,  gaz- 
ing up  at  us  from  the  bulrushes,  with  mild,  friendly 
eyes  and  a  little  tail  that  was  poised  for  wagging 
at  the  slightest  provocation.  He  was  instantly 
christened  "Moses"  for  obvious  reasons.  Later  the 
name  was  changed  to  Mosina,  also  for  obvious  rea- 
sons. 

After  the  line  of  porters  had  regained  their  com- 
posure the  lion  beat  continued,  but  no  lion  appeared. 
The  sum  total  of  the  wild  beasts  yielded  by  that 


It  Was  Not  a  Lion 

promising  swamp  was  one  (1)  little  black  and  tan 
dog  with  white  feet. 

Some  of  OUT  genealogical  experts  addressed 
themselves  to  the  task  of  figuring  out  the  why  and 
wherefore  of  little  Mosina  and  what  in  the  world 


A    FASCINATING    WILD    BEAST  217 

she  was  doing  out  in  a  lion  and  leopard  infested 
place.  Leopards  in  particular  are  fond  of  dogs, 
not  the  way  you  and  I  are  fond  of  them,  but  in 
quite  a  different  way.  A  leopard,  so  it  is  said,  pre- 
fers a  dog  to  any  other  food  and  will  take  daring 
chances  in  an  effort  to  secure  one  for  breakfast, 
dinner,  or  supper.  Therefore,  how  little  Mosina 
escaped  so  long  is  a  mystery  yet  unsolved. 

The  experts  decided  after  a  thorough  consider- 
ation of  the  case,  viewing  it  from  all  possible  an- 
gles, that  the  little  dog  was  a  Wanderobo  dog.  The 
Wanderobo  are  natives  who  live  solely  by  hunting 
and  generally  have  the  most  primitive  sort  of  a 
grass  hut  at  the  edge  of  a  swamp  or  deep  in  the 
solitudes  of  the  forest.  They  put  rude  honey  boxes 
up  in  the  trees  to  serve  as  beehives,  and  it  is  from 
this  honey  and  from  the  game  that  they  kill  with 
their  bows  and  arrows  and  traps  and  spears  that 
they  manage  to  eke  out  a  meager  living. 

Like  all  true  hunters,  they  keep  dogs,  and  it  is 
more  than  likely  that  little  Mosina  was  the  ex- 
property  of  some  wild-eyed,  naked  Wanderobo 
who  lived  in  the  swamp.  When  our  great  crowd 
of  noisy  beaters  appeared  at  the  other  end  of  the 
swamp  the  Wanderobo  had  doubtless  crawled  out 
of  his  hole  and  made  off  for  the  nearest  tall  grass. 
In  going  he  had  left  behind  Mosina  as  a  rear-guard 
to  cover  his  retreat  or  to  stay  the  invaders'  advance 
until  he  could  reach  the  nearest  spot  available  to  a 
hasty  man. 

So  we  adopted  this  theory  as  to  why  Mosina  was 


218  IN    AFRICA 

in  the  bulrushes,  and  in  honor  of  her  Wanderobo 
associations  we  again  changed  her  name  to  "Little 
Wanderobo  Dog."  So  far  as  I  know,  she  is  the  only 
dog  in  history  who  has  had  three  separate  and  dis- 
tinct names  within  two  hours.  Of  course,  there  are 
people  who  have  called  dogs  more  than  three  dif- 
ferent names  in  much  less  time,  but  they  were  not 
Christian  names.  One  of  the  bachelor  members  of 
the  committee,  who  is  known  to  be  a  woman-hater, 
conferred  the  honorary  title  of  the  pronoun  "he" 
on  Little  Wanderobo  Dog,  and  she  has  been  "he" 
ever  since.  But  not  without  a  bitter  fight  by  those 
of  the  committee  who  think  the  pronoun  "she"  is 
infinitely  more  to  be  admired. 

Little  Wanderobo  Dog  did  not  wait  to  be  adopt- 
ed. He  adopted  us,  but  not  ostentatiously  at  first — 
just  a  friendly  wag  here  and  there  to  show  that  he 
had  at  last  found  what  he  was  looking  for.  By  de- 
grees he  became  more  friendly  and  genial,  so  that 
at  the  end  of  an  hour  he  was  thoroughly  one  of  us. 

I  have  never  seen  a  milder-eyed  dog  than  Little 
Wanderobo.  Innocence  and  guilelessness  struggled 
for  supremacy,  with  "confidence  in  strangers"  a 
close  third.  You  couldn't  help  liking  him,  for  with 
those  meek  and  gentle  eyes,  together  with  manners 
above  reproach,  he  simply  walked  into  your  heart 
and  made  himself  at  home. 

I  think  that  we  were  a  good  deal  of  a  surprise  to 
him.  In  all  his  short  young  life  he  had  probably 
never  known  anything  but  kicks  and  cuffs.  When 
he  met  a  stranger  he  naturally  expected  to  have 


A    FASCINATING    WILD    BEAST  219 

something  thrown  at  him,  or  to  have  a  stubby  toe 
or  hard  sandal  projected  into  his  side.  Imagine  his 
wonderment  to  find  people  who  actually  petted  him 
and  played  with  him.  At  first  he  didn't  know  how 
to  play,  but  it  was  amazing  to  see  how  fast  he 
learned.  He  was  ready  to  play  with  any  and  all 
comers  at  any  and  all  times.  You  could  arouse  him 
from  a  deep  slumber  and  he  would  be  ready  to  en- 
gage in  any  form  of  gaiety  at  a  second's  notice. 

They  talk  about  "charm."  Some  people  have  it 
to  a  wonderful  degree.  You  like  them  the  minute 
you  meet  them,  and  often  don't  really  know  why. 
Perhaps  because  you  simply  can't  help  it.  Well, 
that  was  the  chief  characteristic  of  Little  Wander- 
obo  Dog.  He  had  more  charm  than  anything  I've 
ever  met,  and  so  it  is  only  natural  that  he  should 
have  walked  into  our  affections  in  the  most  natural, 
unaffected  sort  of  way. 

I  don't  know  what  he  thought  of  us,  but  I  really 
believe  that  he  thought  he  had  gone  to  Heaven.  We 
fed  him  and  played  with  him,  and  finally  he  gained 
a  little  assurance,  and  actually  barked.  He  barked 
at  one  of  our  roosters,  and  then  we  knew  that  he 
considered  himself  past  the  probation  stage.  He 
had  confidence  enough  to  assert  himself  in  a  series 
of  lusty  barks  without  fearing  a  hostile  boot  or  an 
angry  shout.  The  first  time  he  barked  we  all  rushed 
out  of  our  tents  in  wonder  and  admiration.  It  was 
the  most  important  event  of  the  day,  and  it  caused 
a  great  deal  of  talk  of  a  friendly  nature. 

There  was  one  umbrageous  cloud  on  Little  Wan- 


220  IN    AFRICA 

derobo  Dog's  horizon,  however — a  cloud  that  he 
soon  learned  to  evade.  The  Mohammedans  didn't 
like  him.  It  is  a  part  of  their  creed  to  hate  dogs 
almost  as  much  as  pork,  and  to  be  touched  by  a  dog 
means  many  prayers  to  Allah  to  wipe  away  the 
stain  of  contact.  But  Little  Wanderobo  Dog  was 
not  conversant  with  the  Mohammedan  creed  at  first, 
and  in  his  gladness  and  joy  of  life  he  embraced 
everybody  in  the  waves  of  affection  and  friendli- 
ness that  radiated  from  him  like  a  golden  aura. 

The  Somali  gunbearers  were  disciples  of  Allah, 
and  they  began  to  kick  at  him  before  he  was  within 
eight  feet  of  them.  Two  of  the  tent  boys  were  also 
Mohammedans,  but  they  had  to  be  more  circum- 
spect in  their  hostility.  Whenever  Little  Wander- 
obo Dog  came  around  they  would  edge  away,  which 
gave  the  former  a  certain  sense  of  importance  be- 
cause it  was  flattering  to  have  a  number  of  grown- 
up men  fear  him  so  much.  Then  there  were  a  num- 
ber of  the  porters  who  were  Mohammedans  of  a 
sort,  but  these  were  wont  to  say,  "O,  what  is  a  creed 
among  friends?" 

It  was  quite  cold  up  on  the  plateau  at  night. 
Sometimes  the  wind  swept  down  from  the  distant 
fringe  of  mountains  and  shook  the  tents  until  the 
tent  pegs  jumped  out  of  the  ground.  The  night 
guard  would  pile  more  wood  on  the  big  central 
camp-fire  near  our  tents  and  the  porters,  in  their 
eighteen  or  twenty  little  tents,  would  huddle  closer 
together  for  warmth.  They  were  nights  for  at  least 
three  blankets,  and  even  four  were  not  too  many. 


A    FASCINATING    WILD    BEAST  221 

Consequently  Little  Wanderobo  Dog  was  con- 
fronted by  the  necessity  of  adopting  a  place  to  sleep 
where  he  would  be  safe  from  those  sharp  arrows  of 
the  north  wind  that  swept  across  the  high  stretches 
of  the  plateau.  So  he  ingratiated  himself  into  my 
tent  with  many  friendly  wags  of  his  tail  and  a  coun- 
tenance of  such  benign  faith  in  human  nature  that 
he  was  allowed  to  remain.  At  many  times  in  the 
night  I  was  awakened  and  I  knew  that  Little  Wan- 
derobo Dog  was  dreaming  about  some  wicked 
swamp  ogre  that  was  trying  to  kick  him. 

At  first  he  was  not  a  silent  sleeper,  but  later  on 
these  awful  nightmares  came  with  less  frequency 
and  I  presume  his  dreams  took  on  a  more  beatific 
character.  As  a  watch-dog  I  don't  believe  he  had 
great  value,  because  of  his  readiness  to  make  friends 
with  anything  and  anybody.  If  a  leopard  had  come 
into  the  tent  he  would  have  said,  "Excuse  me,  but 
I  think  you  are  in  the  wrong  place,"  but  he  would 
never  have  barked  or  conducted  himself  in  an  un- 
gentlemanly  way. 

One  could  never  tell  what  was  likely  to  come  into 
one's  tent  at  night,  even  with  armed  askaris  patrol- 
ling the  camp  all  night  long.  One  cold  night,  before 
Little  Wanderobo  Dog  had  come  to  live  with  us,  I 
was  awakened  by  a  curious  rustle  of  the  tent  flaps. 
I  listened  and  then  watched  the  tent  flap  for  some 
moments,  thinking  that  the  wind  might  have  been 
responsible.  But  there  was  no  wind  and  it  seemed 
beyond  doubt  that  some  animal  had  entered. 

For  a  long  time  I  listened,  but  could  hear  noth- 


222  IN    AFRICA 

ing ;  and  yet  at  the  same  time  I  had  a  positive  con- 
viction that  I  was  not  alone  in  the  tent.  I  wondered 
if  it  could  be  a  leopard,  or  some  small  member  of 
the  cat  tribe.  I  knew  that  it  wasn't  a  dog,  for  there 
were  no  dogs  anywhere  in  the  vicinity  of  the  camp. 
As  the  minutes  went  by  without  any  hostile  move 
from  the  darkness,  I  decided  to  let  whatever  it  was 
stay  until  it  got  ready  to  depart.  So  I  went  to  sleep. 

Once  more  in  the  night  I  was  awakened  by  a 
noise  in  the  tent  and  as  nearly  as  I  could  diagnose 
the  situation,  the  noise  came  from  under  my  cot. 
But,  I  reasoned,  if  the  animal  is  there,  it's  behaving 
itself  and  if  it  were  on  mischief  bent  it  would  have 
transacted  its  business  long  before.  So  I  went  to 
sleep  again. 

Just  at  dawn  the  clarion  crow  of  a  rooster  came 
from  under  my  bed.  It  was  one  of  the  roosters  the 
cook  had  bought  from  a  Boer  settler  and  had  come 
in  to  escape  the  coldness  of  the  night  air  without. 
It  was  a  most  agreeable  surprise,  for  there  was  a 
homelike  sound  in  the  crow  of  the  rooster  that  was 
pleasantly  reminiscent  of  the  banks  of  the  Wabash 
far  away. 

After  Little  Wanderobo  Dog  became  "accli- 
mated" to  the  warm  and  friendly  atmosphere  of 
hospitality  of  the  camp,  he  began  to  show  evidences 
of  tact  and  diplomacy.  He  bestowed  his  attentions, 
with  unerring  impartiality  to  all  of  us.  In  the  even- 
ing, and  frequently  during  the  day,  he  would  pay 
ceremonial  visits  to  each  of  the  four  tents  of  the 
msungu,  as  the  white  people  are  called.  First  he 


A    FASCINATING    WILD    BEAST  223 

would  approach  the  threshold  of  one  tent,  cock  an 
inquiring  ear  at  the  occupant,  and  upon  receiving 


A   Ceremonial  Call 


the  customary  sign  of  welcome  would  wag  himself 
in  and  pay  his  respects.  After  a  short  call  he  would 
wag  his  way  out  and  call  at  the  next  tent,  where  the 
same  performance  was  repeated. 


224  IN    AFRICA 

He  never  burst  into  a  place  like  a  cyclone  of  hap- 
piness, but  rather,  he  sort  of  oozed  in  and  oozed  out, 
his  mild  brown  eyes  brimming  with  gentleness  and 
his  tail,  that  eloquent  insignia  of  canine  gladness, 
wigwagging  messages  of  good  cheer. 

In  one  of  the  tents  of  the  msungu  there  was  a 
pet  monkey.  It  had  been  captured  down  on  the 
Tana  River  months  before  and  at  first  was  wild  and 
vicious.  As  time  went  by  it  lost  much  of  its  wild- 
ness  and  to  those  it  liked  was  affectionate  and 
friendly.  To  all  others  it  presented  variable  moods, 
sometimes  friendly  and  sometimes  unexpectedly 
and  unreasonably  hostile.  We  feared  that  Little 
Wanderobo  Dog  would  have  some  bad  moments 
with  the  little  Tana  River  monkey,  and  their  first 
meeting  was  awaited  with  keen  interest.  We 
thought  the  monkey  would  scratch  all  the  gentleness 
out  of  the  Little  Wanderobo  Dog's  eyes  and  that 
the  two  animals  would  become  bitter  enemies. 

But  nothing  of  the  sort  happened.  Little  Wan- 
derobo Dog  managed  the  matter  with  rare  tact.  He 
succeeded  in  slowly  overcoming  the  monkey's 
prejudices,  then  in  inspiring  confidence,  and  finally 
in  establishing  play  relations.  It  was  worth  a  good 
deal  to  see  the  dog  and  monkey  playing  together, 
the  latter  scampering  down  from  his  tent-pole  aery, 
leaping  on  the  dog,  and  scampering  hurriedly  over 
the  latter,  with  a  quick  retreat  to  the  invulnerable 
heights  of  the  tent-pole.  Little  Wanderobo  Dog 
would  allow  the  monkey  to  roam  at  will  over  his 
features  and  anatomy,  thereby  showing  tolerance 


A    FASCINATING    WILD    BEAST  225 

which  I  thought  impossible  for  any  animal  to  show. 
After  Little  Wanderobo  Dog  had  paid  his  de- 
voirs to  his  host,  which  he  did  each  day  with  great 
punctiliousness,  he  would  then  retire  to  some  sunny 


The  Entente  Cordiale 

spot  and  enjoy  his  siesta.   He  was  great  on  siestas 
and  usually  had  several  each  day. 

In  time  he  learned  to  distinguish  between  Mo- 
hammedans and  other  dark-complexioned  people 
and  held  himself  aloof  from  the  former,  thereby  es- 
caping any  humiliating  races  with  the  heavy  boots 


226  IN    AFRICA 

of  the  gunbearers  and  other  followers  of  Allah.  He 
made  friends  with  little  Ali,  the  monkey's  valet,  a 
small  Swahili  boy  who  looked  like  a  chocolate  drop 
in  color,  and  like  a  tooth-powder  ad  in  disposition. 
It  was  Ali's  duty  to  carry  the  monkey  on  our 
marches. 

The  little  gray  monkey,  with  its  venerable  look- 
ing black  face  fringed  with  a  sunburst  of  white 
hair,  would  be  tied  to  an  old  umbrella  of  the  Sairey 
Gamp  pattern,  and  would  sit  upon  it  as  the  small 
boy  carried  it  along  the  trails  on  his  shoulder,  like 
a  musket.  Sometimes  when  the  sun  was  strong  the 
umbrella  would  be  raised  to  shield  the  monkey's 
eyes,  which  could  not  stand  the  fierce  glare  incident 
to  a  long  march  upon  sun-baked  trails.  At  such 
times  the  monkey,  who  rejoiced  in  the  brief  name 
of  J.  T.  Jr. — the  same  being  emblazoned  on  the  lit- 
tle silver  collar  around  its  neck — at  such  times  the 
monkey  would  scamper  from  shoulder  to  shoulder 
of  the  small  boy,  with  occasional  excursions  up  in 
the  woolly  kinks  of  the  heights  above.  It  was  a 
funny  picture  and  one  that  never  failed  to  amuse 
those  who  watched  it. 

Well,  Little  Wanderobo  Dog,  by  some  prescient 
instinct  hardly  to  be  expected  in  one  brought  up  in 
a  swamp,  decided  that  little  Ali  and  the  monkey 
were  to  be  his  "companions  of  the  march."  So,  when 
the  tents  were  struck  and  Abdi,  the  head-man, 
shouted  "Funga  nizigo  ydkaf  and  the  tented  city 
of  yesterday  became  a  scattered  heap  of  sixty- 
pound  porters'  loads,  Little  Wanderobo  would  seek 


4    ** 


HUBBUB 


Being  Posed  for  a  Post  Mortem  Picture 


-/Ijl  "*/£** 


Pi     vv 


The    Triumvirate 


A    FASCINATING    WILD    BEAST 


227 


out  All  and  prepare  to  bear  him  company  during 
the  long  stretches  of  the  march.  And  then  when  the 


The  Three  Comrades 


long  line  of  horsemen,  native  soldiers,  porters,  tent 
boys,  gunbearers,  ox  gharries,  and  all  began  to 
wind  their  sinuous  way  over  veldt  or  through  for- 
est, there  was  none  in  the  line  more  picturesque  than 


228  IN    AFRICA 

All  and  J.  T.  Jr.  surrounded  by  the  affable  Little 
Wanderobo  Dog. 

It  is  little  wonder  that  friendship  soon  ripened 
into  love,  and  that  we  all  became  speedily  and  ir- 
revocably attached  to  the  little  swamp  angel.  His 
presence  in  any  gathering  was  like  a  benediction  of 
good  cheer,  and  when  his  tail  was  in  full  swing  he 
looked  like  a  golden  jubilee.  As  I  say,  it  was  no 
wonder  we  liked  him,  and  I  think  I  may  also  say, 
without  flattering  ourselves,  that  the  sentiment  was 
reciprocated.  I  don't  believe  the  joy  he  showed  at 
all  times  could  have  been  assumed.  It  must  have 
been  pure  joy,  without  alloy. 

His  table  manners  were  above  reproach.  He 
would  never  grab  or  show  unseemly  greed.  He 
awaited  our  pleasure  and  each  bone  or  chop  that  fell 
his  way  was  received  with  every  token  of  mute  but 
eloquent  gratitude.  You  were  constantly  made  to 
feel  that  he  loved  you  for  yourself  and  not  for  what 
he  hoped  you  would  give  him.  If  I  were  to  be 
wrecked  on  a  desert  island,  I  believe  there  is  hardly 
more  than  one  person  that  I'd  prefer  to  have  as  my 
sole  companion  than  Little  Wanderobo  Dog. 

Perhaps  a  few  words  about  the  architecture  of 
the  little  dog  might  not  come  amiss.  He  was  built 
somewhat  on  the  lines  of  the  German  renaissance, 
being  low  and  rakish  like  a  dachshund,  but  with  just 
a  little  more  freeboard  than  the  dachshund.  His 
legs  were  straight  instead  of  bowed,  as  are  those  of 
his  distinguished  German  cousin.  His  ears  were 
hardly  as  pendulous,  being  rather  more  trenchant 


A    FASCINATING    WILD    BEAST  229 

than  pendulous,  and  therefore  more  mobile  in  ac- 
tion. His  tail  was  facile  and  retrousse,  with  a 
lateral  swing  of  about  a  foot  and  an  indicated 
speed  of  seventeen  hundred  to  the  minute.  When 
you  add  to  these  many  charms,  those  mild  eyes, 
surcharged  with  love  light,  and  a  bark  as  sweet 
as  the  bark  of  the  f rangipanni  tree  and  as  cheerful 
as  the  song  of  the  meadow-lark,  you  may  realize 
some  of  the  estimable  qualities  that  distinguished 
Little  Wanderobo  Dog. 

For  some  weeks  he  stayed  with  us,  Tray-like  in 
his  faithfulness,  and  always  in  the  vanguard  when 
danger  threatened  the  rear.  One  day  our  caravan 
passed  through  a  group  of  migrating  Wanderobos. 
There  were  a  dozen  or  so  of  men,  all  armed  with 
spears  and  bows  and  arrows;  also  fifteen  or  twenty 
women,  thirty  or  forty  totos,  and  about  a  score 
of  dogs. 

Here  was  the  test.  Would  Little  Wanderobo 
Dog,  reclaimed  from  the  swamp,  harken  to  the  call 
of  the  blood  and  join  the  band  of  his  own  kind?  If 
he  did,  we  could  only  bow  our  heads  in  grief  and 
submission,  for  after  all  were  not  we  only  foster 
friends  and  not  blood  relations?  But  Little  Wan- 
derobo Dog  never  wavered  in  his  allegiance  to  us. 
He  had  planted  his  lance  by  our  colors  and  with 
these  he  would  stick  till  death. 

He  passed  those  other  Wanderobo  dogs  as  if 
they  were  creatures  from  another  world.  If  he  felt 
tempted  to  join  his  fellow  dogs,  there  was  no  indi- 
cation of  it,  and  at  night  when  we  reached  our  camp 


230  IN    AFRICA 

we  found  our  faithful  follower  at  his  accustomed 
post,  stanch,  firm  and  true  to  his  colors,  which  were 
black  and  tan. 

But  alas,  there  comes  a  time  when  the  best  of 
friends  must  part.  And  the  dark  day  came  when  I 
saw  Little  Wanderobo  Dog  for  the  last  time.  It 
was  at  Escarpment.  Our  long  months  of  hunting 
were  over.  Our  horses  and  porters  and  all  our 
equipment  were  on  the  train  bound  for  Nairobi, 
where  we  were  to  settle  our  aif airs  and  leave  Africa 
and  its  happy  hunting  ground.  Little  Wanderobo 
Dog  had  been  let  out  of  his  first-class  compartment 
in  the  train  and  was  running  up  and  down  the  plat- 
form, wigwagging  messages  of  gladness  with  his 
tail  and  sniffing  friends  and  strangers  with  dog- 
like  curiosity.  Some  friends  of  ours  were  at  the 
train  to  say  howdy-do  and  to  shake  our  hands,  and 
with  these  the  little  dog  was  soon  on  friendly  terms. 

When  the  train  whistle  blew  and  the  bell  was 
rung  and  some  more  whistles  blew  and  more  bells 
were  rung,  Little  Wanderobo  Dog  was  taken  back 
into  his  car.  The  last  good-bys  were  said  and  we 
were  off  for  Nairobi.  Suddenly  there  was  a  star- 
tled cry,  a  whisk  of  a  tail,  and  the  dog  was  gone — 
out  of  the  car  window.  He  lit  on  his  nose,  but  as 
far  back  as  we  could  see  he  sat  in  the  middle  of  the 
next  track  and  gazed  at  the  receding  train.  Two 
days  later  Mrs.  Tarlton  came  down  from  Escarp- 
ment and  said  that  she  had  rescued  the  dog  and 
that  he  was  installed  in  the  hospitable  home  of  Mrs. 
GETampson,  where  he  would  remain  until  he  rejoined 


A    FASCINATING    WILD    BEAST 


231 


those  members  of  our  party  who  were  to  remain  in 
Africa  some  months  longer.  It  is  likely  that  Little 
Wanderobo  Dog  may  be  taken  on  a  great  elephant 
hunt  in  Uganda  and,  who  knows,  some  time  he  may 
visit  America.  I  hope  so,  for  I'd  like  to  give  him  a 
dinner. 


Our  Last  Vien 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WHO'S  WHO  IN  JUNGLELAND.    THE  HARTEBEEST  AND 
THE  WILDEBEEST,  THE  AMUSING  GIRAFFE  AND 
THE  UBIQUITOUS  ZEBRA,  THE  LOVELY  GA- 
ZELLE AND  THE  GENTLE  IMPALLA 

IN  the  course  of  the  average  shooting  experience  in 
British  East  Africa  the  sportsman  is  likely  to  see 
between  twenty  and  thirty  different  species  of  ani- 
mals. From  the  windows  of  the  car  as  he  journeys 
from  Mombasa  to  Nairobi,  three  hundred  and 
twenty-seven  miles,  he  may  definitely  count  upon 
seeing  at  least  seven  of  these  species:  Wildebeest, 
hartebeest,  Grant's  gazelle,  Thompson's  gazelle, 
zebra,  impalla,  and  giraffe,  with  the  likelihood  of 
seeing  in  addition  some  wart-hogs  and  a  distant 
rhinoceros,  and  the  remote  possibility  of  seeing 
cheetah,  lion,  and  hyena.  Of  the  bird  varieties  the 
traveler  will  be  sure  of  seeing  many  ostriches,  some 
giant  bustards,  and  perhaps  a  sedate  secretary-bird 
or  two. 

These  animals  are  the  common  varieties,  and 
after  a  short  time  in  the  country  the  stranger  learns 
to  tell  them  apart.  He  knows  the  zebra  from  his 
previous  observation  in  circuses;  he  also  does  not 
have  to  be  told  what  the  giraffe  is,  but  the  other 

232 


Hassan  and   a   Hartebeest 


The  Author's   Home  in   Africa 


Beautiful   Upland  Country 


WHO'S    WHO    IN    JUNGLELAND 


233 


ones  of  the  seven  common  varieties  he  must  learn, 
for  most  of  them  are  utterly  strange  to  an  American 
eye. 

He  soon  learns  to  pick  out  the  wildebeest,  or  gnu, 
by  its  American  buffalo  appearance;  he  comes  to 
know  the  little  Thompson's  gazelle  by  its  big  black 
stripe  on  its  white  sides  and  by  its  frisky  tail  that  is 
always  flirting  back  and  forth.  The  Grant's  gazelle 


Gazelle,  with  Wildebeest  in  Background 

is  a  little  harder  to  pick  out  at  first,  and  one  is  likely 
to  get  the  Grant's  and  Tommy's  confused.  But 
after  a  short  time  the  difference  is  apparent,  the 
Grant's  being  much  larger  in  stature  and  has  much 
larger  horns  and  is  minus  the  Thompsonian  perpet- 
ual motion  tail.  It  certainly  is  a  stirring  tail!  The 
impalla  is  about  the  same  size  as  the  Grant's  gazelle, 
but  has  horns  of  a  lyrate  shape. 

The  hartebeest  is  speedily  identified,  because  he 
is  unlike  any  other  antelope  in  appearance  and  ex- 


234  IN    AFRICA 

ists  in  such  large  numbers  in  nearly  every  part  of 
East  Africa.  Indeed,  if  a  returned  traveler  were 
asked  what  animal  is  most  typical  of  the  country  he 
would  at  once  name  the  hartebeest.  He  sees  it  so 
much  and  so  often  that  after  a  time  it  seems  to  be 
only  a  necessary  fixture  in  the  landscape.  A  horizon 
without  a  few  hartebeests  on  it  would  seem  to  be 
lacking  in  completeness. 

Furthermore,  the  stranger  soon  learns  that  the 
hartebeest  is  commonly  called  by  its  native  name, 
kongoni,  and  by  the  time  his  shooting  trip  is  over 
the  sight  of  the  ubiquitous  kongoni  has  become  as 
much  of  his  daily  experience  as  the  sight  of  his 
tent  or  his  breakfast  table.  To  me  the  kongoni  ap- 
pealed most  strongly  because  of  his  droll  appear- 
ance and  because  of  a  many-sided  character  that 
stirs  one's  imagination. 

He  is  big  and  awkward  in  appearance  and  ac- 
tion ;  his  face  is  long  and  thin  and  always  seems  to 
wear  a  quizzical  look  of  good  humor,  as  if  he  were 
amused  at  something.  Others  besides  myself  have 
remarked  upon  this,  so  I  am  hoping  that  the  kon- 
goni wore  this  amused  look  even  at  times  when  he 
was  not  looking  at  me.  His  long,  rakish  horns  are 
mounted  on  a  pedicle  that  extends  above  his  head, 
thus  accentuating  the  droll  length  of  his  features. 
His  withers  are  unusually  high  and  add  to  the  awk- 
ward appearance  of  the  animal.  Standing,  the  kon- 
goni is  a  picture  of  alert,  interested  good  humor; 
running,  he  is  extremely  funny,  as  he  bounces  along 
on  legs  that  seem  to  be  stiffened  so  that  he  appears 


WHO'S    WHO    IX    JUNGLE  LAND  235 

to  rise  and  fall  in  his  stride  like  a  huge  rubber  ball. 
We  made  quite  a  study  of  the  kongoni,  for  he  is 
a  most  interesting  animal.  He  is  unselfish  and 
vigilant  in  protecting  the  other  creatures  of  the 
plain.  His  eyes  are  as  keen  as  those  of  a  hawk,  and 
when  a  herd  is  feeding  there  are  always  several 
kongoni  sentinels  posted  on  ant-hills  in  such  a  stra- 
tegic wray  that  not  a  thing  moves  anywhere  on  the 
plains  that  escapes  their  attention.  Oftentimes  I 
have  cautiously  crept  to  the  top  of  a  ridge  to  scan 
the  plains,  and  there,  a  mile  away,  a  kongoni  would 
be  looking  at  me  with  great  interest. 

If  you  try  to  approach  he  will  remain  where  he 
is  until  his  warning  sneezes  have  alarmed  all  the 
other  animals,  and  finally,  when  all  have  fled,  he 
goes  gallumphing  along  in  the  rear.  He  is  the  self- 
appointed  protector  of  his  fellow  creatures,  the  sen- 
tinel of  the  plains.  I  have  seen  him  run  back  into 
danger  in  order  to  alarm  a  herd  of  unsuspecting 
zebras. 

He  leads  the  wildebeests  to  water  and  he  lends 
his  eyes  to  the  elephants  as  they  feed.  With  nearly 
every  herd  of  game,  or  near  by,  will  be  found  the 
faithful  kongoni,  always  alert,  watchful,  and  vigi- 
lant, and  it  is  nearly  always  his  cry  of  warning  that 
sends  the  beasts  of  the  plains  flying  from  dangers 
that  they  can  not  see. 

The  sportsman  swears  at  the  kongoni  because  it 
so  often  alarms  the  quarry  he  is  stalking.  How 
very  often  it  happens!  The  hunter  sees  afar 
some  trophy  that  he  is  eager  to  secure  and 


£36  IN    AFRICA 

straightway  begins  a  careful  stalk  of  many  hun- 
dred yards.  At  last,  after  much  patient  work,  he 
reaches  a  point  where  he  feels  that  he  can  chance  a 
shot.  He  takes  a  careful  sight  and  at  that  moment 
a  kongoni  that  has  been  silently  watching  him  from 
some  place  or  other  gives  the  alarm,  and  away  goes 
the  trophy  beyond  reach  of  a  bullet.  And  then  how 
the  hunter  curses  at  the  kongoni,  who  has  stopped 
some  little  distance  away  and  is  regarding  him  with 
that  quaint,  lugubriously  funny  look.  It  almost 
seems  to  be  laughing  at  him. 

One  day  I  tried  to  shoot  a  topi.  It  was  a  broiling 
hot  day  and  the  sun  hung  dead  above  and  drove  its 
burning  javelins  into  me  as  I  crept  along.  For 
seven  hundred  yards,  on  hands  and  knees,  I  slowly 
and  painfully  made  my  way.  The  grass  wore 
through  the  knees  of  my  trousers  and  the  sharp 
stubbles  cut  my  palms;  once  a  snake  darted  out  of 
a  clump  of  grass  just  as  my  hand  was  descending 
upon  it,  and  lizards  frequently  shot  away  within  a 
yard  of  my  nose.  My  neck  was  nearly  broken  from 
looking  forward  while  on  my  hands  and  knees,  and 
it  was  nearly  an  hour  of  creeping  progress  that  I 
spent  while  stalking  that  topi. 

When  I  got  within  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards, 
and  was  just  ready  to  take  a  careful  aim,  with  an 
ant-hill  as  a  rest,  a  kongoni  somewhere  gave  the 
alarm,  and  away  went  the  topi,  safe  and  sound  but 
badly  scared.  The  kongoni  went  a  little  way  off 
and  then  turned  and  grinned  broadly.  I  was  mo- 
mentarily tempted  to  shoot  him,  but  on  second 


WHO'S    WHO    IN    JUNGLELAND 


237 


thought  I  realized  that  he  had  acted  nobly  from  the 
animal  point  of  view,  so  I  forgave  him. 

The  kongoni  seems  to  be  gifted  with  a  clairvoy- 
ant instinct.  He  knows  when  you  don't  want  to 
shoot  him  and  when  you  do.  If  you  start  out  in  the 


Outward  Bound — Reading  Your  Thoughts — Concluding  Your 
Intentions  Are  Hostile 

morning  with  no  hostile  intentions  toward  him  he 
will  allow  you  to  approach  to  within  a  short  dis- 
tance. He  will  be  alert  and  watchful,  but  he  will 
show  no  anxiety.  But  just  suppose  for  an  instant 
that  you  change  your  mind.  Suppose  you  say  to 
yourself  that  the  porters  have  had  no  meat  for  sev- 


238  IN    AFRICA 

eral  days  and  that  it  might  be  well  to  shoot  a  kon- 
goni.  The  latter  knows  what  is  passing  in  your 
mind  long  before  you  have  made  a  single  move- 
ment to  betray  your  intentions.  He  begins  to 
edge  away,  ready  in  an  instant  to  go  bounding  rap- 
idly beyond  rifle  shot. 

I've  seen  a  herd  of  kongoni  standing  quite  near, 
watching  me  with  curious  interest,  but  without  fear. 
Perhaps  I  was  intent  upon  something  else  and 
hardly  noticed  them.  Suddenly  a  villainous  thought 
might  enter  my  head,  such  as  "That  big  kongoni 
has  enormous  horns,"  and  instantly  the  herd  would 
prick  up  their  ears,  run  a  few  steps,  and  then  turn 
to  verify  their  suspicions.  Then,  if  the  villainous 
thought  still  lurked  in  my  brain,  they  would  sneeze 
shrilly  and  go  galloping  away  in  the  distance. 
There  is  no  way  to  explain  this  except  to  attribute  it 
to  thought  transference,  and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  the  kongoni  doesn't  understand  English. 

The  kongoni  is  found  nearly  every  place  in  East 
Africa.  Along  the  railway  between  Makindu  and 
Nairobi  the  species  is  called  Coke's  hartebeest.  Far- 
ther up  the  railway  the  species  is  Neumann's  harte- 
beest, while  still  beyond,  on  the  Guas  Ngishu  Plat- 
eau and  the  Mau  escarpment,  the  species  is  called 
Jackson's  hartebeest.  In  the  main  the  three  vari- 
eties are  almost  the  same ;  it  is  in  the  horns  that  the 
chief  distinction  lies,  with  lesser  differences  in  color 
and  stature.  The  hunter  has  been  allowed  to  kill 
ten  of  each  on  his  license,  but  under  the  new  game 
ordinance  in  force  since  December,  1909,  only  four 


WHO'S    WHO    IN    JUNGLELAND 


239 


Jackson's  are  allowed  and  twenty  Coke's  instead  of 
ten. 

When  we  went  across  the  Guas  Ngishu  Plateau 
in  early  November  we  saw  thousands  of  Jackson's 
hartebeest,  and  never  a  calf.  When  we  came  back 
in  late  December  and  early  January  we  saw  hun- 


The  Young  Kongoni  Is  Very  Funny 

dreds  and  hundreds  of  calves,  many  of  them  less 
than  a  day  old.  The  stork  must  have  been  busy,  for 
they  all  arrived  at  once.  These  little  calves  come 
into  the  world  fully  equipped  for  running,  and 
almost  immediately  after  birth  go  bounding  along 
after  their  mothers,  so  awkward  and  so  funny  that 
I'm  not  surprised  that  their  own  mothers  look  per- 
petually amused. 


240  IN    AFRICA 

The  hartebeest,  or  kongoni,  is  hard  to  kill.  The 
Dutch  gave  him  the  name  for  that  reason.  It  often 
seems  as  if  bullets  have  no  effect  on  him.  He  will 
absorb  lead  without  losing  a  trace  of  his  good- 
humored  look,  and  after  he  has  been  shot  several 
times  he  will  go  bounding  earnestly  away,  as  if 
nothing  was  the  matter.  If  he  succeeds  in  join- 
ing a  herd  there  is  little  way  of  distinguishing  which 
one  has  been  shot,  unless  he  suddenly  exhibits  signs 
or  falls  over.  Otherwise  he  is  quite  likely  to  gallop 
away,  far  beyond  pursuit,  and  then  slowly  succumb 
to  his  wounds. 

Again  I've  seen  them  knocked  over  and  lie  as  if 
dead,  but  before  one  could  approach  they  would  be 
up  and  off  as  good  as  ever.  This  is  the  great  tragedy 
of  the  conscientious  hunter's  life — the  escape  of  a 
wounded  animal  beyond  pursuit — and  the  thought 
of  it  is  one  that  keeps  him  awake  at  night  with  a 
remorseful  heart  and  saddened  thoughts.  When- 
ever I  shall  think  of  Africa  in  the  future,  I  shall 
think  of  my  old  friend,  the  kongoni,  dotting  the 
landscape  and  sticking  his  inquiring  ears  over  vari- 
ous spots  on  the  horizon.  In  four  and  a  half 
months  I  think  I  must  have  seen  at  least  a  hundred 
thousand  kongoni. 

The  giraffe  is  also  a  creature  of  most  amusing 
actions.  You  are  pretty  certain  to  see  a  bunch  of 
them  as  you  come  up  the  railway  from  the  coast. 
They  were  the  first  wild  animals  I  saw  in  British 
East  Africa — a  group  of  four  or  five  quietly  feed- 
ing within  only  a  hundred  yards  of  the  thundering 


WHO'S    WHO    IX    JUXGLELAXD 

railway  engine.  They  were  in  the  protected  area, 
however,  and  seemed  to  know  that  no  harm  would 
reach  them  there.  Later  on  in  the  morning  we  saw 
other  herds,  but  invariably  at  long  range,  some- 
times teetering  along  the  sky  line  or  appearing  and 


They  Run  Loosely  but  Earnestly 

disappearing  behind  the  flat-topped  umbrella  aca- 
cias. 

The  giraffe  is  most  laughable  when  in  action. 
He  first  looks  at  you,  then  curls  his  tail  over  his 
back,  and  then  lopes  off  with  head  and  neck 
stuck  out,  and  with  body  and  legs  slowly  folding 
and  unfolding  in  a  most  ungainly  stride.  It  is  hard 
to  describe  the  gait  of  a  giraffe  to  one  who  has  never 


242  IN    AFRICA 

seen  it,  but  any  one  would  at  once  know  without  be- 
ing told  that  a  giraffe  couldn't  help  being  funny 
when  running. 

As  a  general  thing  it  is  difficult  to  approach  a 
giraffe.  With  their  keen  eyes  and  great  height 
they  almost  invariably  see  you  before  you  see  them, 
and  that  will  be  at  seven  or  eight  hundred  yards' 
distance.  From  the  moment  they  see  you  they 
never  lose  sight  of  you  unless  it  is  when  they  dis- 
appear behind  a  hill  a  mile  or  two  away. 

When  seen  on  the  sky-line  a  herd  of  giraffe  will 
suggest  a  line  of  telegraph  poles;  when  seen  scat- 
tered along  a  hillside,  partly  sheltered  under  the 
trees,  they  blend  into  the  mottled  lights  and  shad- 
ows in  such  a  way  as  to  be  almost  invisible.  I  have 
been  within  two  hundred  yards  of  a  motionless 
giraffe  and,  although  looking  directly  at  it,  was 
not  aware  that  it  was  a  giraffe  until  it  moved.  It 
might  easily  have  been  mistaken  for  a  bare  fork  of 
the  tree,  with  the  mottled  shadows  of  the  leaves  cast 
upon  it. 

Along  the  Tana  River  I  saw  several  herds  of 
giraffe,  perhaps  fifty  head  in  all,  but  it  was  on  the 
great  stretches  of  the  scrub  country  that  slopes 
down  from  Mount  Elgon  that  I  saw  the  great 
herds  of  them.  One  afternoon  I  saw  twenty-nine 
together,  big  black  males,  beautifully  marked 
tawny  females,  and  lots  of  little  ones  that  loomed 
up  like  lamp  posts  amidst  a  group  of  telegraph 
poles.  Within  two  hours  I  saw  two  other  herds  of 
seven  and  nine  each,  and  every  day  thereafter  it  was 


WHO'S    WHO    IN    JUNGLELAND  243 

quite  a  common  thing  to  run  across  groups  of  these 
strange-looking  animals  browsing  among  the  trees. 

One  is  not  allowed  to  kill  a  giraffe  except  under 
a  special  license,  which  costs  one  hundred  and  fifty 
rupees,  or  fifty  dollars.  One  of  our  party  had  a 
commission  to  secure  a  specimen  for  a  collector  and 
had  been  unsuccessful  in  getting  it.  That  circum- 
stance led  to  an  amusing  adventure  that  I  had  with 
a  giant  giraffe.  One  day,  with  my  gunbearers,  I 
had  ridden  out  from  camp  in  search  of  wild  pigs. 
Ten  minutes  after  leaving  camp  I  drew  rein  hastily, 
for  off  to  my  left  and  in  front  a  lone  giraffe  of 
great  size  and  of  splendid  black  color  was  slowly 
careening  along  toward  me.  If  he  continued  in 
his  course  and  did  not  see  us  he  would  pass  within 
a  hundred  yards  of  me.  So  I  hastily  but  quietly 
dismounted  to  try  for  a  photograph  as  he  passed. 

A  moment  or  two  later  he  saw  me  for  the  first 
time  and  at  once  swung  into  a  funny  trot.  I  took 
the  picture,  and  then  the  thought  struck  me,  "Why 
not  drive  him  into  camp,  where  he  could  be  secured 
by  the  one  having  a  special  license?'*  I  jumped  on 
my  horse  and  galloped  around  him,  but  in  a  few 
moments  struck  a  ravine  so  rocky  that  I  had  to  walk 
my  horse  through  the  worst  of  it.  By  the  time  I 
had  crossed  the  giraffe  was  some  hundred  yards 
ahead.  Still  farther  ahead  the  prairie  was  burning 
and  the  long  line  of  fire  extended  a  mile  or  more 
across  our  front. 

I  thought  this  fire  would  swing  the  giraffe  off, 
and  so  it  became  a  race  to  reach  the  fire  line  first, 


244  IN    AFRICA 

in  order  to  swing  him  in  the  right  direction.  The 
ground  was  deep  with  prairie  grass,  as  dry  as 
tinder,  and  scattered  throughout  were  innumerable 
holes  in  the  ground  made  by  the  ant-bears  and  wart- 
hogs.  Any  one  of  these  holes  was  enough  to  throw 
a  horse  head  over  heels  if  he  went  into  it.  I  had  no 
gun,  having  left  it  with  my  gunbearer  when  I  took 
the  picture.  So  there  was  nothing  to  hinder  me  as 
we  swept  across  the  great  plain. 

We  passed  the  camp  half  a  mile  away  at  a  furi- 
ous pace,  the  giraffe  holding  his  own  with  the  horse 
and  keeping  too  far  in  front  to  be  turned.  By 
degrees  we  approached  the  prairie  fire  and  the 
flames  were  leaping  up  three  or  four  feet  in  a  line 
many  hundred  yards  long.  The  giraffe  hesitated 
and  then  breasted  the  walls  of  fire;  I  didn't  know 
whether  my  horse  would  take  the  salamander  leap 
or  not,  and  as  we  rushed  down  toward  it  I  half- 
expected  that  he  would  stop  suddenly  and  send  me 
flying  over  his  shoulders.  But  he  never  wavered. 
The  excitement  of  the  chase  was  upon  him  and  he 
took  the  leap  like  an  antelope.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment of  blinding  smoke,  a  burning  blast  of  air,  and 
then  we  were  galloping  madly  on  across  the  black- 
ened dust  where  the  fire  had  already  swept. 

For  two  miles  I  galloped  the  giraffe,  vainly  en- 
deavoring to  swing  him  around,  but  once  a  swamp 
retarded  me  and  another  time  a  low  hill  shut  the 
giraffe  from  view.  When  I  passed  the  hill  he  had 
disappeared  and  could  not  be  found  again.  There 
was  no  deep  regret  at  having  lost  him,  for  I  felt 


WHO'S    WHO    IN    JUNGLELAND  245 

particularly  grateful  to  him  for  having  given  me 
the  most  exhilarating  and  the  most  joyous  ride  I 
had  in  Africa. 

The  large  male  giraffes  often  appear  solid  black 
at  a  distance,  for  the  yellow  bands  separating  the 
splotches  of  black  are  so  slender  as  to  be  invisible 
at  even  a  short  distance.  The  females  are  much 
lighter  and  usually  look  like  the  giraffes  we  see  in 
the  circuses  at  home. 

Then  there's  the  ubiquitous  zebra,  almost  as  num- 
erous as  the  kongoni.  You  see  vast  herds  of  zebra 
at  many  places  along  the  railway,  and  thereafter,  as 
you  roam  about  the  level  spots  of  East  Africa,  you 
are  always  running  into  herds  of  them.  At  first, 
the  sight  of  a  herd  of  zebras  is  a  surprise,  for  you 
have  been  accustomed  to  seeing  them  in  the  small 
numbers  found  in  captivity.  It  is  a  source  of  pass- 
ing wonder  that  these  rare  animals  should  be  roam- 
ing about  the  suburbs  of  towns  in  hundred  lots. 
You  decide  that  it  would  be  a  shame  to  shoot  a 
zebra  and  determine  not  to  join  in  this  heartless 
slaughter. 

Later  on  your  sentiments  will  undergo  a  change. 
Everybody  will  tell  you  that  the  zebra  is  a  fearful 
pest  and  must  be  exterminated  if  civilization  and 
progress  are  to  continue.  The  zebra  is  absolutely 
useless  and  efforts  to  domesticate  him  have  been 
without  good  results.  He  tramps  over  the  plains, 
breaks  down  fences,  tears  up  the  cultivated  fields, 
and  really  fulfills  no  mission  in  life  save  that  of 
supplying  the  lions  with  food.  As  long  as  the 


246 


IN    AFRICA 


zebras  stay  the  lions  will  be  there,  but  the  settlers 
say  that  the  lions  are  even  preferable  to  the  zebras. 

Under  the  old  game  ordinance  expiring  Decem- 
ber fifteenth,  1909,  a  sportsman  was  allowed  two 
zebras  under  his  license ;  under  the  new  one  he  is  al- 
lowed twenty!  That  reveals  the  attitude  of  East 
Africa  toward  the  jaunty  little  striped  pony. 

In  action  the  zebra  is  dependent  upon  his  friend, 


Zebra,  Wildebeest  and  Gazelle  (Wildebeest  in  Middle) 

the  kongoni.  When  the  latter  signals  him  to  run, 
he  trots  off  and  then  turns  to  look.  If  the  kongoni 
sends  out  a  4-11  alarm,  the  zebra  will  hike  off  in 
a  Shetland-pony-like  gallop  and  run  some  distance 
before  stopping.  They  have  no  endurance  and 
may  be  easily  rounded  up  with  a  horse. 

On  the  Athi  Plains  may  be  found  the  bones  of 
scores  of  zebras,  each  spot  marking  where  a  lion  has 
fed;  and  in  the  barb-wire  fences  of  the  settlers 


WHO'S    WHO    IN    JUNGLELAND  247 

other  scores  of  withered  hides  and  whitened  skulls 
mark  where  they  have  fallen  before  the  grim  march 
of  civilization. 

With  each  sportsman  granted  an  allowance  of 
twenty  zebras,  it  may  not  be  so  long  before  the  zebra 
will  be  forced  to  seek  the  sanctuary  of  the  game 
reserves,  which,  happily,  are  large  enough  to  insure 
his  escape  from  extinction. 

The  zebra's  chief  peculiarity,  aside  from  his 
beautiful  markings,  is  a  dog-like  bark  which  is 
much  more  canine  than  equine  in  its  sound.  The 
zebra's  chief  charm  is  its  colt,  for  there  is  nothing 
alive  that  is  prettier  or  more  graceful  than  a  young 
zebra  a  few  weeks  old. 

The  only  Grant's  gazelles  that  I  saw  were  those 
along  the  railway  at  Kapiti  Plains  and  Athi  Plains. 
This  animal  is  graceful  and  beautiful,  with  a  splen- 
did sweep  of  horns.  With  them,  and  in  much 
greater  numbers,  is  the  little  "Tommy,"  or  Thomp- 
son's gazelle,  a  graceful,  buoyant,  happy,  bounding 
little  antelope  with  an  ever  active  tail  flirting  gaily 
in  the  sunshine.  The  Tommy  is  small,  about  twice  as 
big  as  a  fox  terrier,  and  is  of  a  fawn  color.  Along 
the  lower  parts  of  his  sides  is  a  broad  white  belt, 
along  the  middle  of  which  runs  a  bold  black  stripe. 
The  effect  is  strikingly  handsome. 

The  impalla  is  much  bigger  than  the  Tommy, 
and  he  usually  travels  in  large  herds  of  fifty  or 
more.  It  is  no  uncommon  sight  to  see  one  buck 
with  twenty  or  thirty  females,  and  it  is  probably 
due  to  the  fact  that  hunters  try  to  get  the  male 


248 

specimens  as  trophies  that  accounts  for  the  vast 
preponderance  of  females  in  the  various  antelope 
herds.  The  impalla  is  seen  along  the  railroad  and 
in  enormous  numbers  out  along  the  Thika  Thika 
and  Tana  Rivers.  There  are  also  many  up  in  the 
Rift  Valley  and  doubtless  in  other  sections.  From 
my  own  experience  and  observation  they  were  most 
abundant  on  the  Tana  River. 

The  wildebeest,  or  gnu,  is  found  on  the  Athi 


Impalla  Buck  and  Lady  Friends 

Plains  and  northward  along  the  Athi  River  and  the 
Thika  Thika.  One  need  never  travel  more  than 
two  hours'  drive  or  walk  from  Nairobi  to  see  wilde- 
beest, but  it's  a  different  thing  to  get  them.  You 
would  have  to  travel  many  hours,  most  likely,  be- 
fore you  succeeded  in  bringing  down  a  wildebeest. 
My  first  shot  in  Africa  was  at  a  wildebeest  at 
three  hundred  yards.  The  bullet  struck,  but  so  did 
the  wildebeest.  He  struck  out  for  northern  Africa, 
and  when  last  seen  was  still  headed  earnestly  for  the 


WHO'S    WHO    IN    JUNGLELAND 


249 


north  pole.  I  am  consoled  in  thinking  that  my  shot 
must  have  inflicted  more  surprise  than  injury  and 
so  I  hope  he  has  now  fully  recovered,  wilder  and 
beastier  than  of  yore. 

My  last  shot  in  Africa,  the  day  before  leaving 
for  the  coast,  was  at  a  wildebeest  an  hour  or  so  out 
of  Nairobi.  This  time  I  missed  entirely  and  repeat- 
edly and  the  wildebeest  remains  unscathed  to  roam 


Wildebeest  With  the  White  Man  Only  Eight  Miles  Away 

the  broad  plains  of  the  Athi  until  some  better  or 
luckier  shot  passes  his  way.  If  I  have  anything  on 
my  conscience,  it  is  certainly  not  the  remorse  of 
having  reduced  the  supply  of  wildebeests. 

In  our  last  few  days'  shooting  out  on  the  Athi 
Plains  we  saw  perhaps  fifty  or  seventy-five  of  these 
great  bison-like  animals.  Their  bodies  and  legs 
and  tails  are  slender  and  graceful,  like  those  of  a 
horse,  but  the  heads  are  heavy-featured,  heavy- 
horned  and  heavy-bearded.  They  are  wild  and 


250  IN    AFRICA 

when  they  see  you  a  mile  or  so  away  will  start  and 
run  for  the  nearest  vanishing  point,  usually  arriv- 
ing there  long  before  you  do. 

The  foregoing  seven  species  of  animals  are 
the  ones  most  commonly  seen  in  East  Africa.  Per- 
haps something  about  some  of  the  less  common 
ones  will  have  some  instructive  value. 


CHAPTER  XV 

SOME  NATURAL  HISTORY  IN  WHICH  IT  IS  REVEALED 
THAT  A  SING-SING  WATERBUCK  IS  NOT  A  SING- 
ING TOPI,  AND  THAT  A  TOPI  IS  NOT  A  SPE- 
CIES OF  HEAD-DRESS 

WHILE  reading  an  account  of  the  trophies  secured 
by  Colonel  Roosevelt  on  the  Guas  Ngishu  Plateau, 
I  was  mystified  by  seeing  the  name  of  an  animal 
I  had  never  heard  tell  of — a  singing  topi.  For  a 
time  I  puzzled  over  this  strange  creature  and  finally 
evolved  a  satisfactory  explanation  of  how  the  ani- 
mal made  its  appearance  in  the  despatches.  Briefly, 
"there  haint  no  sich  animal,"  as  the  old  farmer  said 
when  he  saw  his  first  dromedary  in  a  circus ;  it  was 
merely  a  mistake,  due  to  the  telegraphic  abbrevia- 
tions which  foreign  correspondents  employ  to  save 
cable  tolls. 

What  the  correspondent  meant  to  say  was  that 
the  colonel  had  secured  a  sing-sing  waterbuck  and 
a  topi.  The  word  "waterbuck"  was  omitted  because 
he  assumed  that  everybody  at  home  would  know 
that  a  "sing-sing"  was  a  species  of  waterbuck, 
wherein  he  was  mistaken,  for  comparatively  few 
people  in  America  know  what  a  sing-sing  is,  or,  for 
that  matter,  what  a  topi  is,  or  what  a  Uganda  cob  is. 
When  his  despatch  had  been  transmitted  through 

251 


252  IN    AFRICA 

several  operators  on  its  way  to  the  States  the  word 
"sing-sing"  became  "singing"  and  was  supposed 
to  be  an  adjective  describing  the  topi.  Hence  the 
"singing  topi." 

The  American  paragraphers  also  had  fun  with 
the  word  "topi,"  for  they  thought  a  topi  was  a  sun 
hat  much  worn  in  the  hot  countries.  From  this 
course  of  reasoning  it  was  probably  assumed  that 
Colonel  Roosevelt  had  shot  some  kind  of  a  sing- 
ing sun  hat,  which  was  certainly  enough  to  cause 
comment. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  waterbuck  that  the 
East  African  hunter  will  find  in  the  course  of  his 
travels,  the  common  waterbuck  which  we  saw  in 
such  numbers  on  the  Tana  River,  and  the  Def  assa, 
or  "sing-sing"  waterbuck,  which  is  found  in  the 
higher  altitudes  up  toward  the  Mau  escarpment 
and  Mount  Elgon.  Both  of  these  varieties  of 
waterbuck  are  beautiful  animals,  almost  as  large  as 
a  steer,  and  with  great  sweeping  horns  that  often 
exceed  twenty-five  inches  in  length.  In  some  in- 
stances the  horns  have  been  nearly  three  feet  long, 
but  the  longest  one  that  our  party  secured  was  only 
twenty-nine  inches  in  length.  As  a  trophy  for  a 
wall  there  are  few  heads  in  Africa  more  noble  than 
that  of  the  waterbuck. 

In  all  our  wanderings,  during  which  we  saw  at 
least  two  thousand  waterbuck,  we  found  that  the 
does  outnumbered  the  males  by  ten  to  one  and  that 
usually  in  a  herd  of  twenty  there  would  be  only  one 
big  male  and  one  or  two  smaller  ones.  We  also 


SOME    NATURAL    HISTORY 


253 


never  saw  them  in  water,  but  usually  not  a  great 
distance  from  a  marsh  or  stream.  They  were  much 
shier  than  the  hartebeest  and  zebra,  and  upon  seeing 
our  approach  would  be  the  first  to  run  away.  And 
by  a  curious  chance  the  does  seemed  to  know  that  it 


Waterbuck 

was  the  buck  only  that  was  in  danger.  They  would 
often  turn  to  watch  us,  while  the  buck  himself 
would  keep  on  running  until  he  had  put  many 
hundreds  of  yards  between  himself  and  the  threat- 
ened danger.  Then,  and  then  only,  would  he  turn 
to  watch,  and  it  usually  required  careful  stalking  to 
get  within  gunshot  of  him  again. 


254,  IN    AFRICA 

The  doe  is  not  pretty,  being  thickly  and  clumsily 
built,  with  a  heavy,  ungraceful  neck,  but  the  buck 
is  like  a  painting  by  Landseer,  noble,  graceful, 
and  beautifully  marked  with  white  and  black  on  his 
dark  gray  coat. 

We  didn't  kill  many  waterbuck,  because  there  is 
no  excuse  for  doing  so  except  to  secure  the  heads  as 
trophies.  The  meat  is  so  coarse  and  tough  that 
even  the  porters,  who  seldom  draw  the  line  at  eat- 
ing anything  their  teeth  can  penetrate,  do  not  care 
for  waterbuck  meat  except  under  the  stress  of 
great  hunger.  They  do  like  the  skin,  however,  for 
it  is  of  the  waterbuck  skin  that  their  best  sandals 
are  made.  Consequently,  when  a  waterbuck  is 
killed  there  is  a  fierce  scramble  among  the  porters 
to  secure  portions  of  the  hide  for  this  purpose. 

The  male  waterbucks  are  savage  fighters  among 
themselves,  and  it  was  not  uncommon  to  see  big 
bulls  with  one  horn  gone  or  with  both  horns  badly 
broken  or  marred  as  a  result  of  the  jealous  strug- 
gle for  dominance  of  a  herd  of  does. 

The  topi  is  something  like  the  hartebeest,  but 
much  more  beautiful  and  much  more  rare.  It  is 
over  four  feet  high,  with  skin  of  a  dark  reddish 
brown,  with  a  silklike  bluish  gray  gloss.  On  the 
shoulders  and  thighs  are  bluish  black  patches  and 
the  forehead  and  nose  are  blackish  brown.  The 
under  parts  are  bright  cinnamon.  We  ran  across 
this  beautiful  antelope  only  on  the  Guas  Ngishu 
Plateau,  although  it  is  found  in  one  or  two  other 
districts  in  East  Africa.  In  all  our  weeks  of 


A    Uganda   Cob 


The  Lordly  Eland 


SOME    NATURAL    HISTORY 


255 


rambling  on  the  high  plains  near  Mount  Elgon  I 
think  I  saw  several  hundred  head  of  topi,  always 
shy  and  quick  to  take  alarm. 

The  meat  is  the  most  delicious  of  any  of  the 
large  antelopes,  and  the  skin,  when  properly  cared 
for,  is  as  soft  as  kid  and  as  brilliant  as  watered  silk. 
The  head  is  a  fine  trophy  on  account  of  its  rich  color- 
ing rather  than  because  of  its 
horns,  which  are  not  particu- 
larly graceful  in  curve  or  pro- 
portion, but  which  are  wonder- 
fully ridged. 

I  am  sure  that  if  I  were  a 
beautiful  topi  with  a  skin  like 
watered  silk  I  should  be  deeply 
humiliated  to  be  mistaken  for 
a  singing  sun  hat. 

The  topi's  nearest  relations 
are  the  sasseby,  the  tiang,  and 
the  korrigum.    And  now  you 
know  all  about  the  topi.    The 
game    ordinance    allows    the 
sportsman  to  kill  two  topi,  and  the  holder  of  a 
license  will  work  hard  to  get  his  two,  for  they  are 
splendid  trophies. 

The  duiker  is  another  little  antelope  that  one 
meets  frequently  in  the  grassy  places  of  East 
Africa.  It  is  small,  with  dark  complexion,  and 
goes  through  the  high  grass  in  a  way  that 
strongly  suggests  the  diving  of  a  porpoise  at  sea. 
In  fact,  it  gets  its  Dutch  name  for  that  reason, 


Topi 


256  IN    AFRICA 

duiker  bok.,  meaning  "diving  buck"  in  Dutch. 
There  are  a  dozen  or  more  different  species  of 
duikers,  and  they  may  be  found  scattered  all  over 
South  and  East  Africa.  They  are  difficult  to  shoot, 
for  their  diving  habits  make  them  a  fleeting  target; 
also  their  size,  about  twenty  or  thirty  pounds  in 
weight,  makes  them  a  small  target. 

Quite  often  the  little  duiker  will  hide  in  the 
grass  until  you  have  almost  stepped  on  him,  and 
then,  if  he  considers  discovery  inevitable,  he  will 
spring  away  with  his  little  huddled-up  back  rising 
and  disappearing  over  the  grass  exactly  as  the 
porpoise  does  in  the  water.  One  day  while  we  were 
beating  some  tall  grass  for  lions,  one  of  the  porters 
stepped  on  a  duiker,  and  its  sharp  horns,  twisting 
suddenly,  cut  him  on  the  ankle.  The  horns  of  the 
bucks  are  short  and  straight,  from  four  to  six  inches 
long,  but  most  often  about  four  and  a  half  inches. 

It  would  take  an  expert  mathematician  to  keep 
track  of  all  the  different  kinds  of  duikers,  for 
there's  the  crowned  duiker,  the  yellow-backed 
duiker,  the  red  duiker,  Jentink's  duiker,  Abbott's 
duiker,  the  Ituri  red  duiker,  the  black-faced  duiker, 
Alexander's  duiker,  the  Ruddy  duiker,  Weyn's 
duiker,  Johnston's  duiker,  Isaac's  duiker,  Harvey's 
duiker,  Roberts'  duiker,  Leopold's  duiker,  the 
white-bellied  duiker,  the  bay  duiker,  the  chestnut 
duiker,  the  white-lipped  duiker,  Ogilby's  duiker, 
Brooke's  duiker,  Peter's  duiker,  the  red-flanked 
duiker,  the  banded  duiker,  Walker's  duiker,  the 
white-faced  duiker,  the  black  duiker,  Maxwell's 


SOME    NATURAL    HISTORY 


257 


duiker,  the  black-rumped  duiker,  the  Uganda 
duiker,  the  blue  duiker,  the  Nyasa  duiker,  Heck's 
duiker,  the  Urori  duiker,  Erwin's  duiker,  and  I 
suppose  a  lot  more  that  the  naturalists  have  not  had 
time  to  catalogue. 

One  would  assume  that  with  all  these  duikers 
there  would  hardly  be  room  left  in  Africa  for  any 
other  animals.  But  there  is.  For  instance,  there's 
the  oribi  and  the  dik-dik,  to  say  nothing  of  the 


Like  a  Popular  Cemetery 

steinbuck  and  the  klipspringer.  The  last  named  is 
a  rock -jumping  antelope,  the  others  little  grass 
antelopes,  and  all  of  them  are  as  pretty  and  cute  as 
animals  can  be.  They  are  all  small,  the  dik-dik 
being  scarcely  larger  than  a  rabbit,  and  they  are 
divided  into  as  many  subspecies  as  the  duiker.  A 
list  of  the  different  kinds  of  oribi  would  take  up 
several  lines  of  valuable  space  without  conveying 
any  illuminating  intelligence  to  the  lay  mind. 
We  found  thousands  of  oribi  on  the  Guas  Ngishu 


258 


IN    AFRICA 


Plateau.  You  couldn't  go  half  a  mile  in  any  direc- 
tion without  stirring  up  large  family  parties  of 
them,  and  a  landscape  looked  lonely  unless  one 
could  see  a  few  oribi  bounding  over  the  ant-hills  or 
rising  and  falling  as  they  leaped  through  the  grass. 
When  we  first  went  into  the  plateau  the  grass  was 
long  and  the  oribi  were  for  the  most  part  fleeting 
streaks  of  yellow  over  the  tops  of  it,  but  later  when 
we  came  out  the  grass  had  been  burned  and  the 


Mamma  and  the  Little  One 

young,  tender  grass  had  spread  a  green  carpet  over 
the  plains.  Then  the  oribi  were  visible  everywhere, 
usually  in  groups  of  four  or  six.  Also  the  mamma 
oribis  had  given  birth  to  bouncing  baby  oribis,  and 
the  sight  of  the  little  ones  was  most  pleasing  to  the 
eyes. 

One  day  I  was  hot  on  the  trail  of  a  big  water- 
buck.  The  grass  was  deep  at  that  part  of  the 
plateau  and  I  was  pushing  rapidly  through  it. 
Suddenly  one  of  my  gunbearers,  who  was  behind, 
called  out  and  pointed  to  something  in  the  grass.  I 


A  Museum  Specimen  Must  Be  Preserved  Entire 


The   Eland   Is  the  Largest  of  the  African   Antelopes 


SOME    NATURAL    HISTORY  259 

hurried  back,  and  there  lay  a  little  oribi  only  a  few 
hours  old  and  with  big,  wondering  eyes  that  looked 
gravely  up  at  me  as  I  bent  over  it.  It  was  plenty 
old  enough  to  run  and  could  easily  have  leaped 
away,  but  there  it  lay  as  tight  as  if  nothing  in  the 
world  could  make  it  budge. 

The  whole  thing  was  as  plain  as  could  be.  It  was 
acting  under  instructions.  I  could  almost  hear  the 
mother  of  the  oribi  tell  the  little  one  when  it  heard 
us  coming  to  lay  perfectly  quiet  and  not  to  move 
the  least  bit  until  she  came  back.  Then  mamma  hur- 
ried away  to  cover.  The  little  oribi  remembered  his 
instructions  and  followed  them  out  to  the  letter.  Its 
mamma  had  told  it  not  to  move  and  it  hadn't.  We 
looked  at  it  a  little  while  and  then  said  good-by  and 
went  our  way.  Some  place  near  by  an  anxious 
mother  oribi  was  watching  us  with  her  heart  in  her 
mouth,  no  doubt,  and  I'm  sure  that  we  had  not  gone 
many  yards  before  she  was  back  to  see  what  had 
happened  to  the  little  one.  It  was  quite  an  exciting 
adventure  for  the  little  oribi  and  quite  incompre- 
hensible to  the  mother  that  he  had  emerged  from 
the  peril  so  safely. 

Another  night  I  was  going  out  to  watch  for 
lions.  A  bait  had  been  placed  near  the  tree  where  I 
was  stationed  and  I  had  some  hopes  of  seeing,  if 
not  killing,  a  lion.  Night  had  already  fallen,  but 
there  was  still  a  trace  of  twilight  in  the  air  as  I 
walked  through  the  low  scrub  trees  that  lay  between 
our  camp  and  the  tree,  a  mile  and  a  half  away.  As 
I  was  walking  along  I  heard  a  loud  screaming  to 


260  IN    AFRICA 

my  left,  and,  looking  across,  I  saw  an  oribi  trying 
to  beat  off  two  jackals  that  had  seized  her  young 
baby  oribi.  The  jackals  paid  little  attention  to  her 
and  she  was  frantic  in  her  efforts  to  save  her  little 
one. 

It  was  too  dark  to  see  my  sights  plainly,  but  I 
shot  at  both  of  the  jackals  and  sent  them  slinking 
away.  I  didn't  go  over  to  see  if  the  little  oribi 
was  still  alive,  for  I  was  certain  that  it  had  been 
killed.  If  it  were  dead  I  didn't  want  to  see  it  and 
could  not  help  either  it  or  its  mother ;  if  it  were  alive 
its  mother  could  get  it  safely  away  from  the  jack- 
als. Since  that  moment  I  have  hated  jackals  above 
all  animals,  not  even  excepting  the  odious  hyena, 
and  it  is  the  chief  regret  of  my  hunting  experience 
in  East  Africa  that  I  did  not  kill  those  two  cow- 
ardly vandals. 

When  the  American  reader  picks  up  his  paper 
and  reads  that  Colonel  Roosevelt  has  shot  a 
Uganda  cob,  it  is  quite  natural  that  he  should  not 
know  what  kind  of  a  thing  a  cob  is.  If  the  colonel 
was  out  shooting  "singing  topis"  or  "singing  sun 
hats,"  why,  then,  should  he  not  also  shoot  corn  cobs 
or  cob  pipes? 

The  cob,  sometimes  spelled  kob,  however,  is  only 
an  antelope,  although  a  graceful  and  handsome 
one.  It  is  divided  into  several  subspecies  which 
live  in  different  parts  of  the  country.  In  one  part 
will  be  found  the  large  cob,  almost  the  size  of  a 
waterbuck,  which  is  called  Mrs.  Gray's  cob,  in  honor 
of  the  wife  of  one  of  the  former  keepers  in  the 


SOME    NATURAL    HISTORY 


261 


London  zoo;  in  another  part  is  the  species  known 
as  Vaughan's  cob,  and  in  still  other  parts  are  the 
dusky  cob,  the  puku  cob,  the  lechwi  cob,  the  black 
lechwi,  the  Uganda  cob  and  Buffon's  cob. 

It  was  Lady  Constance  Stewart-Richardson,  the 
remarkable  young  English  woman  who  is  now 
dancing  barefooted  on  the  London  music  stage, 
who  killed  the  record  head  of  this  last  named  species 
in  Nigeria. 


The  Gregarious  Cob 

It  is  of  the  Uganda  cob  only  that  I  am  able  to 
write  about  from  my  own  observation  and  experi- 
ence. We  found  them  only  in  one  place,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Nzoia  River  near  Mount  Elgon  and 
the  Uganda  border.  They  never  were  more  than 
four  or  five  hundred  yards  from  the  river  and  could 
not  be  driven  away.  If  they  were  startled  at  one 
point  they  would  circle  around  and  quickly  get 
back  to  the  river  at  some  other  point.  They  seemed 
to  become  homesick  unless  they  could  see  the  river 
near  by.  We  found  them  only  in  a  short  stretch 
of  five  or  six  miles,  although  they  doubtless  are 


262  IN    AFRICA 

found  all  the  way  down  the  Nzoia  River  to  Victoria 
Nyanza. 

The  cob  is  a  curiously  reliable  animal.  He  likes 
one  certain  place  that  he  is  accustomed  to,  and  noth- 
ing can  drive  him  away.  If  you  see  him  there  one 
afternoon,  you  are  reasonably  certain  of  coming 
back  the  next  afternoon  and  seeing  him  there  again. 
Usually  they  graze  in  some  sheltered  meadow  along 
the  river's  edge,  and  for  recreation,  so  far  as  I 
could  see,  amuse  themselves  by  seing  how  many  can 
get  on  top  of  one  ant-hill  at  one  time.  Some  of 
those  ant-hills  were  literally  bristling  with  cobs,  one 
male  to  each  five  females,  and  in  herds  of  from 
thirty  to  fifty. 

In  architecture,  the  cob  is  nearly  three  feet  high 
at  the  shoulder,  has  beautiful,  sweeping  horns  of  a 
lyrate  shape,  has  a  white  patch  around  each  eye,  a 
white  belly,  and  a  coat  of  yellow  with  black  on  the 
forelegs.  There  is  no  handsomer  antelope  in  Africa 
than  the  Uganda  cob,  and  because  it  is  found  in 
such  a  restricted  and  remote  district  is  accountable 
for  the  fact  that  one  seldom  sees  a  cob  head  in  a 
collection  of  horns.  Comparatively  few  sportsmen 
have  killed  them,  although  they  are  not  hard  to 
kill  if  one  reaches  a  district  where  they  are  found. 
The  extreme  beauty  of  this  antelope  led  us  to  secure 
a  group  of  them  for  the  Field  Museum. 

The  reedbuck  is  another  of  the  smaller  antelopes 
that  carries  a  beautiful  head,  and,  like  nearly  all  of 
the  antelopes,  comes  in  many  varieties,  or  sub- 
species. 


A   Wounded   Wart   Hog 


A   Grass   Fire 


A  Maribou  Stork 


SOME    NATURAL    HISTORY 


265 


Our  own  relations  with  the  reedbuck  were  limited 
to  the  high  altitudes  near  the  Mau  escarpment  and 
the  broad,  rolling,  grassy  downs  along  the  numer- 
ous streams  of  the  Guas  Ngishu  Plateau.  This  sub- 
species is  called  the  Uganda  race  of  the  bohor 
reedbuck — sometimes  abbreviated  to  "bohor."  If 
you  say  you've  shot  a  "bohor"  you  will  be  understood 
to  mean  a  bohor  reedbuck. 

You  \vill  find  the  reedbuck 
in  the  tall  reeds  and  bulrushes 
of  the  swamps  and  low  places, 
where  he  finds  good  cover  and 
good  feeding;  and  also  you 
will  find  him  along  the  low, 
undulating,  grass  -  covered 
hills  near  his  water  supply. 
In  the  heat  of  the  day  they 
are  up  in  the  tall  grass,  where 
they  remain  until  along  in  the 
afternoon.  They  lie  close, 
and,  if  discovered,  will  dart 
off  with  neck  outstretched  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  it  dif- 
ficult to  tell  which  is  male  and  which  female. 

I  have  also  seen  the  females  use  every  means  for 
protecting  their  lords  and  masters,  standing  up  be- 
fore them  as  they  lie  secreted  in  the  grass  and  seek- 
ing to  divert  the  attention  of  the  hunter  from  the 
bucks  to  themselves.  This  desire  to  protect  the 
male  is  common  to  many  of  the  antelope  family, 
and  numberless  times  I  have  seen  a  band  of  does 


Reedbuck 


264 


IN    AFRICA 


attempt  to  screen  the  male  and  shield  him  from 
harm. 

The  reedbuck  never  travels  in  large  numbers, 
seldom  more  than  two  or  three,  or  at  most,  five  or 
six,  being  bunched  together. 

We  had  most  of  our  reedbuck  experiences  while 
driving  swamps  for  lions.  On  these  occasions  many 
reedbuck  would  be  driven  out  of  the  cover  of  the 


They  Watched  While  the  Buck  Ran  Away 

reeds  and  rushes,  and  go  crashing  up  the  slopes 
leading  away  from  the  swamp.  On  one  occasion 
a  reedbuck  lay  so  close  that  it  did  not  stir  until 
one  of  the  beaters  was  almost  upon  it,  when  it 
sprang  up,  nearly  knocking  him  over,  and  escaped 
behind  the  skirmish  line  of  beaters.  At  other  times, 
after  the  skirmish  line  apparently  had  traversed 
every  foot  of  a  swamp,  reedbuck  would  spring  up 
after  the  line  had  passed,  thus  illustrating  how  close 


SOME    NATURAL    HISTORY  265 

they  can  lie  and  how  effectually  they  can  escape 
detection. 

The  reedbuck  has  short  horns,  usually  between 
seven  and  ten  inches  in  length,  but  one  of  our  party 
secured  one  set  of  horns  ten  and  a  quarter  inches 
long — an  exceptionally  fine  head.  The  reedbuck's 
distinguishing  characteristic  is  a  sharp  whistle, 
which  he  sounds  shrilly  when  alarmed. 

Another  beautiful  antelope  that  we  met  in  small 
numbers  on  the  Tana  River  and  on  the  Guas 
Ngihsu  Plateau  was  the  bushbuck,  found  in  thick 
scrub  along  rivers  and  also  in  the  swamps  and  wet 
places.  This  animal  belongs  to  a  select  little  coterie 
of  highly  prized  and  rare  antelopes,  all  of  which 
have  the  distinguishing  feature  of  a  spiral  horn. 

The  bushbuck  is  the  smallest,  and  is  found  over 
nearly  all  of  East  Africa  except  upon  the  open 
plains  and  deserts.  The  females  are  of  a  dark 
chestnut  color,  and  the  males  dark,  almost  black, 
with  white  markings  on  the  neck  and  forelegs.  A 
bushbuck  with  fifteen-inch  horns  is  considered  a 
fine  prize,  although  horns  of  nineteen  inches  are  on 
record. 

The  other  members  of  the  same  family  of  spiral- 
horned  antelopes  are  the  kudu,  the  lesser  kudu,  the 
situtunga,  the  nyala,  the  bongo,  and  the  lordly 
eland,  king  of  all  antelopes  in  size.  The  kudu  is 
largely  protected  in  East  Africa,  and  in  my  shoot- 
ing experience  I  was  not  in  a  district  where  he  was 
to  be  found.  The  same  was  true  with  respect  to  the 
lesser  kudu.  The  nyala  is  a  South  African  species 


266  IN    AFRICA 

and  is  not  to  be  found  in  British  East  Africa.  The 
situtunga  is  a  swamp  dweller  and  is  found  chiefly  in 
Uganda  and,  to  my  knowledge,  infrequently  in  the 
East  African  protectorate. 

The  bongo  is  to  the  white  sportsman  what  the 
north  pole  has  been  to  explorers  for  centuries.  In 
all  records  of  game  shooting  there  has  been,  until 
recently,  only  one  white  man  who  has  killed  a 
bongo,  although  the  Wanderobo  dwellers  of  the 
deep  forests  have  killed  many. 

The  bongo  lives  in  the  densest  part  of  dense  for- 
ests, can  drive  his  way  through  the  worst  tangle  of 
vegetation,  and  has  a  hearing  and  eyesight  so  keen 
that  usually  he  sees  the  hunter  long  before  the  lat- 
ter sees  him.  A  hunt  after  bongo  means  long  hours 
or  even  days  of  hunting  the  forests,  with  hardships 
of  travel  so  disheartening  that  comparatively  few 
white  sportsmen  attempt  to  go  in  after  the  elusive 
antelope.  Kermit  Roosevelt,  however,  with  the  good 
fortune  that  has  followed  his  hunting  adventures, 
succeeded  in  killing  a  cow  and  calf  bungo  after  only 
a  few  hours  of  hunting  with  a  Wanderobo. 

A  few  days  after  I  heard  of  this  piece  of  good 
luck  I  was  traveling  across  Victoria  Nyanza  on  one 
of  the  little  steamers  that  ply  the  lake.  My  cabin 
mate  was  a  stoical  Englishman  who  told  me  quite 
calmly  that  he  had  just  killed  a  large  bull  bongo  a 
few  days  before.  He  had  been  visiting  Lord  Del- 
amere,  and  after  a  few  hours  in  the  forest  had  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  what  only  two  white  men  had  done 
before. 


SOME    NATURAL    HISTORY  267 

The  Englishman  who  had  this  good  luck  was 
George  Grey,  a  brother  of  Sir  Edward  Grey,  one 
of  the  present  cabinet  ministers  of  England. 

The  eland  is  the  largest  of  all  antelopes,  and  we 
ran  across  a  few  on  the  Tana  River  and  a  few  on 


Eland 

the  Guas  Ngishu  Plateau.  Under  the  old  game 
ordinance  the  sportsman  was  allowed  to  kill  one 
bull  eland ;  under  the  new  ordinance  he  is  allowed  to 
kill  none  except  in  certain  restricted  districts  and 
by  special  license.  The  eland  is  as  big  as  a  bull, 
with  spiral  horns  and  beautifully  marked  skin,  and 


268  IN    AFRICA 

both  the  male  and  female  carry  horns.  Those  of  the 
latter  are  usually  larger  and  slenderer,  but  the  skin 
of  the  female  is  not  so  handsomely  marked  as  that 
of  the  male. 

It  is  hard  to  get  near  an  eland,  but  as  the  bull  is 
nearly  six  feet  high  at  the  shoulders  it  is  not  espec- 
ially difficult  to  hit  him  at  three  hundred  yards  or 
more.  The  one  I  shot  was  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  yards  away  and  carried  beautiful  horns, 
twenty- four  and  one-quarter  inches  in  length.  The 
head  of  the  great  bull  eland  makes  a  wonderfully 
imposing  trophy -when  placed  in  your  baronial  halls. 

In  the  foregoing  list  of  antelopes  I  have  tried  to 
tell  a  little  about  the  types  of  that  class  of  animal 
that  I  met  in  my  African  travels — in  all,  sixteen 
species  of  antelope.  My  chief  excuse  for  doing  it 
is  to  enable  people  at  home  to  know  the  difference 
betwen  a  topi  and  a  sun  hat  and  between  a  sing-sing 
and  a  cob.  The  names  of  many  of  the  African 
antelope  family  are  strange  and  confusing,  so  that 
it  is  little  wonder  that  they  mystify  people  in 
America.  There  are  a  hundred  or  more  kinds,  and 
no  one  can  hope  to  know  them  unless  he  makes  a 
business  of  it. 

I  have  not  seen  the  grysbok,  or  the  suni,  or  the 
dibitag,  or  the  lechwi,  or  the  aoul,  or  the  gerenuk, 
or  the  blaauwbok,  or  the  chevrotain,  or  lots  of 
others,  but  who  in  the  world  could  guess  what  they 
were  or  what  they  looked  like,  judging  only  from 
the  names? 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IN  THE  TALL  GRASS  OF  THE  MOUNT  ELGON  COUNTRY. 

A  NARROW  ESCAPE   FROM   A  LONG-HORNED 

RHINO.    A  THANKSGIVING  DINNER  AND 

A  VISIT  TO  A  NATIVE  VILLAGE 

MOUNT  ELGON  is  one  of  the  four  great  mountains 
of  Africa.  You  can  find  it  on  the  map  of  the  dark 
continent,  standing  all  alone,  just  a  little  bit  north 
of  Victoria  Nyanza,  and  surrounded  by  names  that 
one  has  never  heard  of  before. 

The  mountain  is  distinctly  out  of  the  picture- 
post-card  belt — in  fact,  the  only  belt  that  one  will 
find  around  Elgon  is  the  timber  belt  that  encircles 
the  mountain,  and  perhaps  also  a  few  that  the  local 
residents  wear  on  Sundays  and  national  holidays. 

The  function  of  the  latter  class  of  belt  is  to  keep 
up  a  gay  appearance.  It  is  worn  for  looks,  not 
warmth. 

The  traveler  who  goes  to  Mount  Elgon  will  not 
be  distracted  by  sounds  of  civilization,  except  such 
as  he  takes  with  him.  He  will  travel  for  days 
without  seeing  a  sign  of  human  life  beyond  his  own 
following.  The  country  west  of  the  Nzoia  River  is 
uninhabited  and  is  abandoned  to  the  elephant  and 
the  giraffe  and  other  animals  that  care  not  for  the 

269 


270  IN    AFRICA 

madding  crowd.  Thomas  Cook  and  Son  have  not 
yet  penetrated  that  district  with  schedules  and  time 
cards  and  luggage  labels;  so  if  your  purpose  in 
traveling  is  to  get  a  grand  assortment  of  stickers 
on  your  trunks  and  hand-bags,  it  is  useless  to  in- 
clude Mount  Elgon  in  your  itinerary. 

There  will  be  days  of  marching  through  high 
grass,  often  so  deep  as  almost  to  bury  yourself  and 
your  horse ;  hours  of  delay  at  marshy  rivers  densely 
choked  with  a  tangle  of  riotous  vegetation,  and 
much  groping  about  in  a  trackless  waste  for  a  suit- 
able course  to  follow. 

Owing  to  intertribal  warfare  the  Elgon  district 
has  been  closed  for  some  time  and  it  has  only  been 
during  the  last  year  or  so  that  hunting  parties  have 
again  been  allowed  to  enter.  Since  that  time  a  num- 
ber of  parties  have  been  in,  the  Duke  of  Alba 
among  the  first,  and  later  Doctor  Rains  ford,  Fred- 
erick Selous  and  Mr.  McMillan,  Captain  Ashton, 
the  Duke  of  Penaranda,  Mr.  Roosevelt,  and  a  few 
others.  Colonel  Roosevelt  went  only  as  far  as  the 
Nzoia  River,  but  most  of  the  others  crossed  and 
swung  up  along  the  northeastern  slopes  of  the 
mountain  where  elephants  are  most  frequently 
found. 

Our  party  decided  to  take  the  southern  slope, 
notwithstanding  we  were  warned  that  we  might 
find  the  natives  troublesome  and  treacherous.  We 
were  also  warned  that  we  should  be  going  through 
an  untraveled  district  where  there  were  no  trails 
and  where  native  guides  could  not  be  secured, 


•» 


)  I  .  *£  • 

i     n       ,C^t 

\¥  ?*• 

1  **\r      .» 

«     '        "»  'w     J 

*x  v./-    -,  "^3  ' 


^3^" 


*U^t 


-^lU^ 

ILiX^ 


A  Native  Granary 


A  Chair  Is  a  Sure  Sign  of  Rank 


THE    MOUNT    ELGON    COUNTRY  271 

Nevertheless  we  started  and  brilliantly  blundered 
into  some  most  diverting  adventures. 

The  first  day's  march  after  crossing  the  Nzoia 
River  was  through  scrub  country  and  what  we  con- 
sidered high  grass.  The  next  day  we  struck  real 
high  grass!  It  was  so  deep  that  we  had  to  burrow 
through  it.  Only  the  helmets  of  those  on  horseback 
marked  where  the  caravan  was  passing.  The  long 
line  of  porters  carrying  their  burdens  were  buried 
from  view.  It  was  a  terrible  place  to  meet  a  rhino 
and  perhaps  for  that  very  reason  we  promptly  pro- 
ceeded to  meet  one. 

We  were  riding  ahead,  followed  by  the  cook  and 
the  tent  boys,  and  behind  them  was  the  long  string 
of  a  hundred  or  more  porters,  askaris,  totos,  and 
so  forth.  The  end  of  the  line  was  some  hundred 
yards  behind  the  head.  Suddenly  there  was  a  wild 
cry  of  "faru!"  (rhino) . 

It  was  disconcerting,  but  after  one  or  two  hur- 
ried and  flurried  moments  we  got  our  heavy  bat- 
teries in  readiness  and  prepared  to  sell  his  life  as 
cheaply  as  possible.  But  no  rhino  came.  The  grass 
was  too  deep  to  have  seen  him  if  he  had  come,  but 
we  thought  it  was  well  to  have  a  reception  commit- 
tee ready  just  the  same. 

Then  the  rear  ranks  began  to  telescope  into  the 
front  ranks.  They  came  forward  two  or  three 
jumps  at  a  time.  They  were  visibly  perturbed,  but 
presently  they  recovered  enough  to  give  expert  tes- 
timony. 

A  huge  rhino  had  been  in  the  grass  by  the  trail 


272 


IN    AFRICA 


as  we  came  along  and  had  waited  until  the  whole 
line  had  passed.  Then  he  jumped  into  the  trail  and 
charged  furiously  after  the  porters.  The  latter, 
severally,  collectively,  and  frantically,  leaped  for 
their  lives,  dropping  packs  and  uttering  hurried 
appeals  to  Allah. 


He  Estimated  the  Length  at  Four  Feet 

After  scattering  a  few  dozen  of  the  rank  and  file 
from  his  line  of  march  the  rhino  veered  off  and 
plunged  out  of  sight  in  the  tall  grass.  One  of  the 
porters  whose  veracity  is  unquestioned  hy  those  who 
don't  know  him  estimated  the  forward  horn  to  he 
four  feet  long.  He  said  the  rhino  charged  earnestly 
and  with  hostile  intent. 

A  rhino  charging  a  safari  is  always  a  pleasing 


THE    MOUNT    ELGON    COUNTRY  273 

diversion — pleasing  after  it's  all  over  and  diverting 
while  it  lasts.  The  cry  of  "faru"  is  a  good  deal  like 
"car  coming"  at  an  automobile  race.  Instantly 
everybody  is  all  attention,  with  the  attention  equally 
divided  between  the  rhino  and  the  nearest  tree.  If 
there  is  no  tree  the  interest  in  the  rhino  becomes 
more  acute. 

The  thought  of  being  impaled  en  brochette  on 
the  horn  of  a  rhino  is  one  of  the  least  attractive 
forms  of  mental  exertion  that  I  know  of.  It  is  a 
close  second  to  the  thought  of  being  stepped  on  by 
a  herd  of  elephants  marching  single  file. 

Well,  we  survived  the  charge  of  the  heavy  bri- 
gade, and  then  moved  onward,  ever  and  anon  cast- 
ing an  alert  glance  at  the  deep  clumps  of  thicket 
along  the  way.  Fortunately  no  more  rhinos  ap- 
peared and  the  next  thing  we  struck  was  Thanks- 
giving Day. 

The  proper  way  to  celebrate  that  deservedly 
popular  holiday  is  not  by  sitting  in  tall  grass  with 
a  can  of  beans  and  a  bottle  of  pickles  in  the  fore- 
ground. This  is  said  with  all  respect  to  the  manu- 
facturers of  beans  and  pickles  who  may  advertise 
in  the  papers. 

For  a  time,  however,  beans  and  pickles  seemed 
to  be  the  nearest  outlook  for  us,  but  after  a  while 
the  cook,  whose  nerves  had  been  shaken  by  the  im- 
petuous advance  of  the  rhino,  arose  to  the  demands 
of  the  occasion  and  set  up  a  table  upon  which  soon 
appeared  some  hot  tea,  some  bread  and  honey,  some 
beans  and  deviled  ham,  and  a  few  knickknacks  in 


274  IN    AFRICA 

the  line  of  jam  and  cheese.  That  was  luncheon,  and 
we  resolved  to  do  better  for  dinner. 

We  told  the  cook  all  about  Thanksgiving  Day 
and  what  its  chief  purpose  was.  We  also  told  him 
of  the  beautiful  significance  of  the  occasion,  what 
happy  thoughts  it  inspired,  and  how  much  senti- 
ment was  attached  to  it.  Then  we  told  him  to  get 
busy.  We  were  in  a  Thanksgiving  mood,  being 
grateful  that  we  were  not  riding  around  on  the 
bowsprit  of  the  rhino,  and  also  because  our  relatives 
and  friends  at  home  were  well  at  last  reports,  two 
months  old. 

True,  our  guide,  who  had  never  been  over  the 
trail  before  and  who  was  trying  to  guess  the  way 
by  instinct,  had  got  us  hopelessly  becalmed  in 
a  sea  of  high  grass  so  that  we  didn't  know  where  we 
were.  But  we  knew  what  we  were.  We  were  hun- 
gry I 

In  the  meantime  we  planned  and  carried  into 
brilliant  execution  a  grouse  hunt.  There  were  lots 
of  grouse  in  the  country  through  which  we  had 
come  and  all  day  long  coveys  of  them  had  been 
whirring  away  from  our  advancing  outposts.  It 
seemed  a  simple  thing  to  go  out  and  get  a  few  for 
our  Thanksgiving  dinner,  so  we  gave  orders  to 
make  camp  and  consecrated  the  afternoon  to  a 
grouse  quest. 

I'll  never  forget  what  a  formidable  looking 
party  it  was.  When  we  had  spread  out  to  comb  the 
grass  by  the  river  side  we  looked  like  a  skirmish 
line  of  an  army.  There  were  four  of  us,  supported 


THE    MOUNT    ELGON    COUNTRY 


275 


by  seventeen  gunbearers  and  porters.  Our  battery 
consisted  of  four  elephant  guns,  four  heavy  rifles, 
three  light  rifles,  and  four  shotguns.  The  latter 
were  for  grouse  and  the  others  were  for  incidental 
big  game  which  one  must  always  be  prepared  for, 


The  Grouse  Hunt 

whether  one  goes  out  to  shoot  grouse  or  take  snap- 
shots with  one's  camera. 

We  spread  out  and  beat  two  miles  of  perfect 
cover.  Then  we  beat  it  back  again  and  finally,  after 
all  our  Herculean  efforts,  one  lonely  bird  flew  up 
and  was  knocked  over.  That  was  the  astounding  to- 


276  IN    AFRICA 

tal  of  our  slaughter  and  when  the  army  marched 
back  into  camp  with  its  one  little  grouse  the  effect 
was  laughable  in  the  extreme.  I  took  a  photograph 
of  the  entire  group  and  by  good  luck  the  grouse  is 
faintly  seen  suspended  in  the  middle. 

That  night,  with  the  camp-fires  burning  and  with 
our  tents  almost  buried  in  the  tall  grass,  we  cele- 
brated Thanksgiving  in  a  way  that  must  have  made 
old  Lucullus  fidget  in  his  mausoleum.  The  wealth 
of  the  plains  was  compelled  to  yield  tribute  to  our 
table ;  eland,  grouse  and  Uganda  cob  appeared  and 
disappeared  as  if  by  magic;  the  vast  storehouses 
of  Europe  and  America  poured  their  treasures 
upon  our  groaning  board,  and  one  by  one  we 
safely  put  away  succulent  lengths  of  asparagus, 
cakes  and  chocolate,  wine  and  olives,  pickles  and 
honey,  nuts  and  cheese,  plum  pudding  and  coffee, 
and  soup  and  salad,  all  in  their  proper  sequence  and 
in  sufficient  quantities  to  go  round  and  round. 

A  soft  moon  shone  down  from  the  velvet  sky  and 
the  trees  of  the  river  bed  were  bathed  in  white  moon- 
light as  we  sat  by  the  great  camp-fire  and  smoked 
and  talked  and  dreamed  of  the  folk  at  home. 

It  was  an  unusual  occasion,  one  that  called  for  a 
special  dispensation  in  the  way  of  late  hours,  so  it 
was  almost  nine  when  we  turned  in  and  dreamed  of 
armies  of  rhinos  playing  battledore  and  shuttlecock 
with  our  bulging  forms.  It  was  a  great  dinner, 
and  to  be  on  the  safe  side  we  complimented  the  cook 
before  we  went  to  bed. 

A  day  or  two  later,  after  blindly  floundering 


A  Group  of  Ketosh   Ladies 


Nearly    Buried    in    Grass 


Building    a    Grass    House 


THE    MOUNT    ELGON    COUNTRY  277 

about  in  a  sea  of  waving  grass  for  miles  and  miles, 
and  getting  more  and  more  hopelessly  lost,  we 
stumbled  upon  signs  of  human  habitation.  The  first 
sign  was  a  great  stretch  of  valley  in  which  a  number 
of  smoke  columns  were  ascending.  Where  there's 
smoke  there's  folk,  we  thought,  patting  ourselves 
on  the  back  for  cleverness.  We  knew  we  were  ap- 
proaching fresh  eggs  and  chickens. 

A  little  later  we  came  upon  another  sign  of  hu- 
man agitation.  Over  a  rise  in  a  hill  we  saw  a  large 
spear,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  overhauled  a  native 
guarding  a  herd  of  cattle.  He  carried  a  spear  and 
a  shield,  and  over  his  shoulders  he  wore  a  loose 
dressing  sack  that  hung  down  nearly  to  his  arm- 
pits. Civilization  had  touched  him  lightly,  in  fact 
it  had  barely  waved  at  him  as  it  brushed  by. 

We  tried  him  with  several  languages — Swahili, 
Kikuyu,  the  language  of  flowers,  American,  Masai, 
and  the  sign  language,  none  of  which  he  was  con- 
versant with.  Then  we  tried  a  relay  system  of  dia- 
lects which  established  a  vague,  syncopated  kind 
of  intellectual  contact.  One  of  our  porters  spoke 
Kavirondo,  so  he  held  converse  with  the  far  from 
handsome  stranger,  translated  it  into  Swahili,  and 
this  was  retranslated  into  English  for  our  benefit. 

The  stranger  was  a  Ketosh.  We  didn't  know 
what  a  Ketosh  was,  but  it  sounded  more  like  some- 
thing in  the  imperative  mood  than  anything  ethno- 
logical. It  developed  later  in  the  day,  however,  that 
a  Ketosh  is  a  member  of  the  tribe  of  that  name,  and 
their  habitat  is  on  the  southern  slopes  of  Elgon. 


Lady  and  Gentleman  Ketosft 

The  Ketoshites,  or  Ketoshians,  as  the  case  may  be, 
are  a  cattle-  and  sheep-raising  tribe.  In  other  words, 
a  tribe  in  which  the  women  do  all  the  manual  labor 
while  the  men  folk  sit  on  a  hillside  with  a  shield  and 


THE    MOUNT    ELGON    COUNTRY 


279 


spear  and  watch  the  herds  partake  of  nourishment. 
They  are  the  standing  army. 

We  followed  the  man  with  the  spear  to  a  little 
village  hard  by.  The  village,  like  all  the  numerous 


The  Standing  Army  Sat  Around  All  Day 

other  ones  that  we  came  to  in  the  next  few  days, 
was  inclosed  in  a  zareba,  or  wall  of  tangled  thorn 
branches  that  encircled  the  village.  Within  the  wall 
were  a  number  of  low  houses,  six  feet  high,  built  of 
mud  and  wattle;  and  within  the  houses,  spilling 


280  IN    AFRICA 

over  plentifully,  were  large  numbers  of  children 
and  babies  and  a  few  women.  A  gateway  of  tangled 
boughs  led  into  the  inclosure,  while  in  one  part  of 
the  village  were  the  curious  woven  wickerwork 
granaries  in  which  the  community  store  of  kaffir 
corn  is  kept.  There  were  no  street  signs  on  the  lamp 
posts,  probably  because  there  were  no  streets  and 
no  lamp  posts. 

In  the  first  village  all  the  men  were  away,  evi- 
dently waiting  to  see  whether  our  visit  was  a  hostile 
or  a  peaceful  one. 

We  soon  established  ourselves  on  a  peace  footing 
and  after  that  the  warriors  began  to  appear  out  of 
the  tall  grass  in  large  numbers  from  all  points  of 
the  compass.  They  all  carried  spears  and  shields, 
neither  of  which  they  would  sell  for  love  or  money. 
At  least  they  wouldn't  for  money.  We  resolved 
not  to  try  the  other  unless  the  worst  came  to  the 
worst  and  we  had  to  fall  back  on  it  as  a  last  des- 
perate measure.  I  suppose  they  didn't  know  how 
soon  they  might  need  their  weapons,  and  we  heard 
that  the  sultan  had  just  sent  out  a  positive  order 
forbidding  them  to  sell  their  means  of  defense. 

The  first  procedure  when  entering  a  district 
where  the  natives  may  be  unfriendly  .is  to  send  out 
for  the  chief,  or  sultan,  as  he  is  known  in  Africa. 
There  is  always  a  sultan  to  preside  over  the  des- 
tinies of  his  tribe  and  to  take  any  money  that  hap- 
pens along.  So  we  sent  for  the  sultan,  who  was 
off  in  a  neighboring  village,  so  they  said.  After  a 
long  wait,  during  which  we  pitched  our  camp  and 


- 


The    Ketosh    Are    Gracefully    Nonchalant 


Little  Shelters  of  Mud  and  Sticks 


A   Family  Party 


THE    MOUNT    ELGON    COUNTRY 


281 


offered  a  golden  reward  for  eggs  and  chickens,  a 
sultan  drifted  in. 

We  knew  he  was  sultan  because  he  carried  a  chair 
— an  unfailing  sign  of  rank  among  a  nation  of  ex- 
pert sitters.  He  also  wore  an  old  woolen  dressing 


Slowly  Being  Cremated 

gown  that  had  worked  its  way  from  civilization 
many  years  before.  It  was  built  for  arctic  regions, 
but  the  sultan  of  all  the  Ketoshians  wore  it  right 
straight  through  the  ardent  hours  when  the  sun 
kisses  one  with  the  fiery  passion  of  a  mustard  plas- 
ter. He  was  slowly  being  cremated  and  it  was  fas- 
cinating to  watch  him  sizzle. 


282  IN    AFRICA 

After  the  sultan  came  and  seated  himself  with 
his  retinue  of  spearmen  (dressed  in  the  altogether 
save  for  the  futile  cloth  around  their  shoulders) 
grouped  around  him  we  took  our  seats  and  began 
a  shauri. 

Shauri  (rhyming  with  Bow'ry)  is  a  native  word 
meaning  a  powwow  or  a  parley  and  is  a  word  that 
works  overtime.  Everything  that  you  do  in  Africa 
has  to  be  preceded  by  a  shauri.  You  have  a  shauri 
if  you  ask  a  native  which  road  to  take.  Other  na- 
tives hurry  up,  and  then  you  stand  around  and  talk 
about  it  for  an  hour  or  so. 

If  you  want  to  buy  a  chicken  or  a  cluster  of  eggs 
there  must  first  be  a  prolonged  shauri  with  much 
interchange  of  views  and  conversation  and  aerated 
persiflage.  The  native  loves  his  shauri.,  and  if  he 
asks  you  a  certain  price  for  a  chicken  and  you  give 
the  price  without  haggling  he  is  greatly  disap- 
pointed. In  fact  I  have  often  seen  them  offer  an 
article  for  a  certain  price  and  then  refuse  to  accept 
the  money  if  it  is  at  once  tendered.  Later  the  native 
will  accept  much  less  if  the  shauri  goes  with  it. 

Well,  we  had  shauris  to  burn  for  a  couple  of 
days.  As  soon  as  the  first  sultan  had  departed  with 
presents  and  words  of  good  cheer  there  was  a  flock 
of  other  sultans  that  hurried  in  to  receive  presents 
and  to  assist  in  shauris.  They  came  from  far  and 
near,  and  they  all  carried  chairs,  thus  proving  that 
they  were  not  impostors;  and  the  worst  of  it  was 
that  we  couldn't  find  out  exactly  which  was  the  real, 
most  exalted  sultan  of  the  bunch.  Hence  we  had  to 


THE    MOUNT    ELGON    COUNTRY 


283 


give  presents  to  many  who  perhaps  were  only  ama- 
teur or  'prentice  sultans,  sultans  whose  domains 
wrere  only  a  little  village  of  half  a  dozen  families. 

For  two  days  our  camp  was  clogged  with  shauris 
and  sultans  sitting  around.    We  couldn't  step  out 


The  Camp  Was  Clogged  with  Sultans 

of  our  tents  without  stumbling  over  a  sultan  or  two. 
When  we  wrould  take  our  baths  in  our  tents  there 
would  be  sultans  and  warriors  peeping  in  modestly 
from  all  sides.  There  was  not  a  secret  of  our  inner 
life  that  remained  intact.  Even  the  ladies,  from  the 
banana-bellied  little  girls  of  five  and  six  up  to  the 


284  IN    AFRICA 

leathery-limbed  old  matrons,  inclusive,  were  not 
above  a  feminine  curiosity  in  things  which  doubt- 
less interested  them,  but  didn't  concern  them.  The 
standing  army  of  the  Ketoshians  sat  around  all  day 
wearing  out  the  grass  and  being  frequently  stum- 
bled over. 

If  we  asked  a  sultan  if  there  were  any  elephants 
in  the  neighborhood  it  meant  at  least  fifteen  min- 
utes of  loose  conversation  through  a  relay  of  inter- 
preters, with  the  final  answer  boiled  down  to  a  "no" 
in  English.  For  a  language  that  has  only  a  few 
words  like  shauri,  backsheesh,  apana,  and  chukula 
the  native  lingo  is  a  most  elastic  one. 

There  were  two  or  three  things  that  we  had  come 
to  Mount  Elgon  for  and  about  which  we  desired 
information.  The  first  was  "elephants,"  and  we 
found,  after  hours  of  talk,  that  there  was  none  in 
the  vicinity.  Secondly,  we  wanted  to  get  food  for 
our  men,  and  thirdly,  we  wanted  guides  to  take  us 
up  to  the  ancient  cave-dwellings  in  the  mountain 
and  more  guides  to  take  us  up  to  the  top  of  the 
mountain  itself. 

It  seemed  almost  impossible  to  get  satisfactory 
information  upon  either  of  the  last  two  subjects. 
The  natives  didn't  want  to  part  with  their  grain, 
while  for  their  cattle  they  asked  outrageous  prices. 
We  were  almost  tempted  to  boycott  them  by  stop- 
ping eating  meat  for  two  months.  They  also 
seemed  reluctant  to  let  us  have  guides  to  take  us  up 
to  the  caves  and  none  of  them  seemed  to  know  the 
trails  that  led  up  into  the  forests  and  the  heights  of 


At  the  Entrance  of  the  Great  Cave 


There  Were  Granaries   in  the  Cave 


In  One  of  the  Elgon  Caves 


THE    MOUNT    ELGON    COUNTRY  285 

the  mountain.  It  was  evident  that  only  a  few  ever 
had  been  up  the  mountain  upon  the  slopes  of  which 
they  had  spent  their  lives. 

We  began  to  think  that  they  wanted  us  to  stay 
in  their  village  just  so  they  could  have  the  pleasure 
of  their  daily  shauris. 

Finally  one  sultan  promised  to  get  us  guides  and 
accepted  a  generous  present  on  the  strength  of  it; 
but  when  the  time  came  he  failed  to  produce  them. 
It  was  at  precisely  this  point,  to  be  strictly  accu- 
rate, that  we  abandoned  the  polite  phraseology  of 
the  court  and  told  him  with  many  exclamation 
points  that  he  would  have  to  guide  us  himself  or 
we  would  take  steps  to  dethrone  him.  Of  course,  all 
of  this  had  to  be  strained  through  two  interpreters, 
but  even  then  I  think  he  caught  the  gist  of  it.  He 
said  that  he  himself  would  guide  us  to  the  nearest 
and  largest  cave. 

We  told  him  that  we  would  be  ready  to  start  im- 
mediately after  luncheon.  Only  ourselves  and  a  few 
men  to  carry  cameras  and  guns  were  to  constitute 
our  party,  the  rest  of  the  safari  remaining  in  camp, 
from  which  certain  embassies  were  sent  out  to  buy 
grain  for  the  porters'  food. 

Soon  after  lunch  the  sultan  arrived  and  we 
marched  away.  Little  by  little  groups  of  his  janis- 
saries, mamelukes,  and  other  members  of  his  of- 
ficial entourage  joined  us  and  by  the  time  we 
reached  the  slope  leading  up  to  the  great  cave- 
dwelling  we  had  quite  an  imposing  procession. 
Most  of  the  natives  were  armed  with  spears  and 


286  IN    AFRICA 

knives,  and  some  of  them  had  painted  their  bodies 
with  red  dirt  and  mutton  grease,  and  when  this 
coating  had  partly  dried  they  had  traced  with  their 
fingers  many  designs  in  stripes  down  their  arms 
and  legs.  Some  were  a  light  mauve  in  color,  but 
most  were  of  a  rich  chocolate  brown.  The  effect  of 
these  designs  was  rather  pretty,  but  the  dripping 
red  oil  from  their  hair  was  not  pretty  and  on  a  hot 
day  exuded  a  strong,  overpowering  odor. 

Above  us,  nearly  a  thousand  feet  from  where  we 
stood,  boldly  visible  in  the  face  of  the  great  cliff, 
was  the  broad  ledge  and  black  opening  of  the  cave. 
A  short  distance  to  the  right  of  it  was  a  bright 
waterfall,  looking  like  a  ribbon,  but  in  reality  quite 
broad  and  dropping  in  three  stages  several  hundred 
feet.  An  incline  of  forty-five  degrees  led  up  to  the 
cave,  while  up  beyond  that  was  the  great  stratum  of 
solid  rock  that  extends  for  miles  along  the  south 
of  Mount  Elgon  and  which  is  honey-combed  with 
hundreds  of  prehistoric  cave-dwellings.  A  deter- 
mined foe  stationed  at  the  mouth  of  any  one  of  the 
caves  could  defend  it  against  an  enormous  attack- 
ing force. 

It  was  nearly  an  hour's  climb  to  the  ledge  where 
the  cave  entrance  appeared.  Several  naked  men 
armed  with  spears  stood  upon  the  rocks,  outlined 
in  bold  and  striking  relief  against  the  velvety  black- 
ness of  the  cave  entrance.  They  appeared  curious 
but  not  unfriendly  as  we  breathlessly  panted  our 
way  on  to  the  ledge  where  they  stood  waiting,  spears 
in  hand. 


•«-. 

Q 


288  IN    AFRICA 

Our  first  impression  was  one  of  gasping  wonder- 
ment. We  seemed  to  stand  upon  a  great  stage  of 
an  immensity  which  words  can  not  describe.  It  was 
a  stage  proportioned  for  giants.  The  rock  pros- 
scenium  arched  above  us  seventy  feet  and  the  stage 
was  nearly  two  hundred  feet  wide.  As  an  audience 
chamber  one  could  look  out  over  twenty-five  thou- 
sand square  miles  of  Central  Africa. 

The  dimensions  and  the  imposing  magnitude  of 
the  place  almost  took  one's  breath  away.  Two  regi- 
ments of  soldiers  could  have  marched  upon  that 
stage.  There  was  even  room  for  a  squadron  of  cav- 
alry to  manoeuver.  Upon  the  well-beaten  floor  were 
the  tracks  of  cattle,  showing  that  from  time  im- 
memorial the  cave  people  had  driven  in  their  herds 
for  shelter  or  for  safety  in  times  of  tribal  warfare ; 
and  in  places  the  solid  rock  was  worn  smooth  and 
deep  by  the  bare  feet  of  centuries  of  naked  people. 

And  yet,  in  spite  of  the  titanic  proportions  of  the 
cave,  there  was  something  quite  homelike  about  it. 
It  almost  suggested  a  prosperous  farm-yard.  There 
were  chickens  walking  about,  with  little  chickens 
trotting  alongside.  There  were  wickerwork  gran- 
eries  standing  here  and  there,  while  around  the  in- 
ner edge  of  the  great  entrance  hall  were  little  mud 
and  stick  woven  houses  five  feet  high,  which  gave 
the  effect  of  a  small  village  street. 

From  the  front  of  the  stage  back  to  the  row  or 
little  houses  was  a  distance  of  about  one  hundred 
feet.  By  stooping  down  one  could  enter  one  of  the 
little  openings,  to  be  surprised  to  find  himself  in  an- 


THE    MOUNT    ELGON    COUNTRY  289 

other  little  farm-yard  where  cattle  had  been  housed 
and  where  there  were  many  evidences  of  the  thrift 
and  industry  of  the  occupants.  Gourds  of  milk 
were  present  in  generous  numbers,  and  as  one's  eyes 
became  accustomed  to  the  semi-darkness  all  sorts  of 
domestic  paraphernalia  were  revealed. 

Little  separate  inclosures  were  fenced  off  for 
human  tenantry,  and  the  glow  of  embers  gave  a 
pleasant,  homelike  look  to  the  place.  Cavern  after 
cavern  extended  back  into  the  cliff,  a  network  of 
them,  but  how  far  they  went  would  be  hard  to  tell. 
Perhaps  the  cave  in  all  its  subterranean  ramifica- 
tions has  never  been  entirely  explored. 

We  wandered  back  through  some  of  the  caverns, 
sometimes  stooping  to  get  through  and  sometimes 
standing  beneath  domes  thirty  and  forty  feet  high. 
And  always  that  queer,  mystical  light,  with  exag- 
gerated shadows  and  sometimes  black  darkness 
ahead,  where  could  be  heard  the  drip,  drip,  drip  of 
water  in  invisible  lakes.  In  time  of  siege  the  hold- 
ers of  this  cave,  with  granaries  filled  and  with  herds 
of  cattle  and  lakes  of  water,  could  hold  the  place 
for  ever. 

The  tenants  of  the  place  soon  became  pleasant 
and  hospitable.  Perhaps  many  of  them  had  never 
seen  white  people  before,  but  they  sat  down  and 
watched  us  with  friendly  interest.  There  were 
many  babies  and  they  were  all  bright-eyed  and 
rugged  looking. 

While  we  were  there  the  cattle  were  out  on  the 
open  hills  grazing,  but  in  the  evening  the  long  herds 


290  IN    AFRICA 

are  driven  up  to  their  airy  stronghold  and  made 
snug  for  the  night.  And  who  knows  but  that  a 
great  herd  of  cattle  would  add  much  to  the  heat  of 
the  cave  and  make  its  nearly  naked  tenants  forget 
that  they  were  high  on  the  chilly  slopes  of  one 
of  Africa's  greatest  mountains? 

They  certainly  do  not  dress  warm.  Around  their 
arms  and  legs  are  all  sorts  of  brass  and  nickel  wire 
wound  in  scores  of  circles.  Chains  of  wire  and  neck- 
laces of  beads  encircle  the  women's  throats  and  ele- 
phant ivory  armlets  are  often  clasped  about  the 
arms  so  tight  that  it  would  seem  that  the  natural 
circulation  would  be  hopelessly  retarded.  But  they 
must  be  healthy,  these  people  who  go  about  with 
only  a  thin  sheet  of  dyed  cotton  thrown  about  them, 
while  we  northerners  shivered  with  sweaters  and 
warm  woolen  things  about  us. 

It's  all  a  case  of  getting  used  to  it,  just  as  it  is  a 
case  of  getting  used  to  seeing  people  frankly  and 
unconsciously  naked,  as  many  of  these  people  are. 
But  after  a  while  one  even  gets  used  to  seeing  them 
so  and  regards  their  nakedness  as  one  would  regard 
the  nakedness  of  animals. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

UP  AND  DOWN  THE  MOUNTAIN  SIDE  FROM  THE  KE- 

TOSH  VILLAGE  TO  THE  GREAT  CAVE  OF  BATS.   A 

DRAMATIC  EPISODE  WITH  THE  FINDING 

OF  A  BLACK  BABY  AS  A  CLIMAX 

FOR  days  we  had  heard  of  wonderful  places  higher 
up  in  the  mountain.  The  information  had  been  so 
vague  and  uncertain  we  hardly  knew  whether  to 
credit  the  reports  or  simply  put  them  down  as  na- 
tive folk  lore  or  superstition.  One  night  we  inter- 
viewed Askar,  one  of  the  Somali  gunbearers. 

He  said  he  had  been  up  the  mountain  a  year  or 
two  before  with  a  Frenchman  who  wanted  to  see 
the  mysterious  natural  wonders  of  Mount  Elgon. 
The  Frenchman  had  to  threaten  to  kill  his  native 
guides  before  they  would  consent  to  lead  him  up  in 
the  cold  heights  of  the  mountain  to  show  him  the 
places  that  filled  the  native  imagination  with  such 
fear  and  superstitious  dread. 

There  was  one  place,  Askar  said,  where  the  water 
boiled  out  of  the  ground  far,  far  up  in  the  moun- 
tain heights,  and  any  native  who  looked  at  it  fell 
dead.  Askar  said  he  went  up  and  looked  at  it 
through  the  glasses,  and  then  ran  away. 

All  this  queer  information  came  out  at  one  of 
our  evening  camp-fire  shauris.  The  great  central 

291 


292  IN    AFRICA 

camp-fire  of  a  safari  is  usually  in  front  of  the  tents 
of  the  msungu,  or  white  people,  and  around  it 
in  the  evening  the  msungu  discuss  the  adventures 
of  the  day  and  the  plans  for  the  morrow.  Each 
night  Abdi,  the  neapara  or  head-man,  comes  up  to 
get  his  instructions  for  the  next  morning,  and  soon 
afterward  Abdullah,  the  cook,  appears  and  waits 
for  his  orders  for  the  breakfast  hour. 

Abdullah  is  the  color  of  night,  and  no  one  ever 
sees  him  approach  or  go  away.  He  simply  appears 
and  often  stands  only  a  few  feet  away  before  any 
one  is  aware  of  his  presence.  And  even  after  he 
speaks,  one  sees  only  a  row  of  white  teeth  looming 
up  five  feet  above  the  ground.  If  any  important 
matters  are  to  be  adjusted  it  is  usually  at  the  camp- 
fire  that  the  things  are  settled.  If  punishment  is 
to  be  meted  out  to  a  transgressor,  it  is  there  that 
the  trial  is  held  and  judgment  rendered. 

Well,  on  this  night  as  we  sat  talking  by  the  camp- 
fire,  Abdi,  our  head-man,  suddenly  appeared  and 
squatted  down.  Soon  after  up  came  Askar,  who 
also  squatted  down,  and  we  knew  that  we  were  in 
for  some  unusual  sort  of  a  sTiauri.  It  was  then 
that  Askar  told  of  the  strange  mystery  of  the 
mountain. 

"Askar  says,"  spoke  Abdi,  interpreting  Askar's 
imperfect  English,  "that  up  in  the  mountain  there 
is  a  big  door  and  a  great  cave.  He  went  up  with  a 
Frenchman,  and  the  guides  refused  to  go.  Then 
the  Frenchman  threatened  to  kill  them  if  they 
would  not  go.  They  were  frightened,  because  all 


Curious   as  to  Our   Home  Life 


On  the  Rim  of  the  Crater 


A    Birthday    Dinner 


A    DRAMATIC    EPISODE 


293 


the  natives  die  who  go  to  the  big  door  and  see  the 
boiling  fountain  through  the  door.  Askar  say  all 
the  natives  ran  away,  but  the  Frenchman  go  on." 

"Did  Askar  see  the  door?" 

"Askar  says  he  see  the  door  and  he  see  the  foun- 
tain through  some  glasses.  Then  he  ran  away." 


Camp  in  the  Forest 

"Can  Askar  take  us  up  to  the  cave  and  the  big 
door?" 

There  was  then  a  long  discussion  in  Somali  be- 
tween Askar  and  Abdi,  which  finally  was  briefly 
rendered  into  English.  Askar  would  show  us  the 
way. 


294  IN    AFRICA 

We  then  sent  for  the  sultan  of  the  Ketosh  tribe 
and  interviewed  him.  He  was  singularly  reticent 
about  the  subject,  and  both  he  and  the  other  natives 
called  in  used  all  their  crude  intelligence  to  discour- 
age any  attempt  to  go  up  into  those  districts  that 
were  so  full  of  strange,  forbidding  influences. 
They  said  there  were  no  trails,  and  when  we  said 
we  would  go  anyway,  they  said  there  was  a  trail, 
but  that  it  was  so  tangled  with  undergrowth  and 
vines  that  one  had  to  creep  through  it,  like  an  ani- 
mal. We  still  said  we  would  go,  and  told  the  sultan 
to  get  us  guides,  for  which  we  would  pay  well. 

All  this  happened  while  we  were  in  the  Ketosh 
village  that  lies  on  the  slope  of  the  mountain  just 
beneath  the  great  rock  wall,  a  thousand  feet  high, 
whose  upper  rim  is  honeycombed  with  the  ancient 
caves  of  the  aborigines.  For  days  we  had  stopped 
there,  endeavoring  to  get  food  and  guides,  and  for 
days  the  sultan  and  his  people  had  placed  every  ob- 
stacle in  the  way  of  our  ascending  higher  the  mys- 
terious and  comparatively  unknown  mountain.  The 
great  rock  escarpment  shut  off  the  view  of  the 
peaks  beyond,  but  we  felt  that  if  once  we  could 
scale  the  first  precipitous  slope  we  would  find  trav- 
eling much  easier  on  the  gentle  slope  of  the  moun- 
tain. 

At  last,  after  persuasion,  threats,  money,  and 
pleading  had  in  turn  been  tried,  the  sultan  brought 
his  son  and  said  that  his  son  would  guide  us. 

The  son  was  the  craftiest  and  crookedest  looking 
native  I  had  seen  in  Africa.  After  one  look  at  him, 


A    DRAMATIC    EPISODE  295 

you  were  filled  with  such  distrust  and  suspicion  that 
you  would  hardly  believe  him  if  he  said  he  thought 
it  was  going  to  rain,  or  that  crops  were  looking  up. 

With  this  man  as  a  guide,  and  with  four  more 
who  were  tempted  by  the  bright  red  blankets  we 
gave,  our  caravan  started  on  one  of  the  strangest 
and  perhaps  most  foolhardy  trips  that  presumably 
sane  people  ever  made.  In  the  first  place,  probably 
fewer  than  half  a  dozen  white  men  had  ever  as- 
cended Mount  Elgon.  There  were  no  adequate 
maps  of  the  region,  and  the  one  we  had  was  woe- 
fully inaccurate.  It  was  made  as  if  from  tele- 
graphic description,  and  the  only  thing  in  which  it 
proved  trustworthy  was  that  there  was  a  mountain 
there  and  that  it  was  about  fourteen  thousand  two 
hundred  feet  high,  and  that  the  line  separating 
British  East  Africa  from  Uganda  ran  through  the 
crater  at  the  top. 

Our  delay  at  the  Ketosh  village  had  greatly  re- 
duced our  food  supplies  for  the  porters,  and  there 
was  only  enough  left  to  last  six  days.  In  that  time 
we  should  have  to  ascend  the  mountain  and  descend 
to  some  place  where  food  supplies  could  be  pro- 
cured. It  all  looked  quite  quixotic.  We  bought 
two  bullocks,  a  sheep,  and  a  goat,  and,  with  our 
guides  ahead,  our  entire  safari  of  over  a  hundred 
souls  turned  toward  the  grim  heights  that  shot  up 
before  us. 

The  trail  for  the  first  thousand  feet  of  ascent  was 
steep  and  hard  to  climb.  The  rocks  high  above  us 
were  specked  with  natives,  who  gazed  down  in  won- 


296 


IN    AFRICA 


der  at  the  strange  spectacle.   These  were  the  cave- 
dwellers.    After  an  hour  or  more  we  reached  the 


Up  to  the  Rim  of  the  Crater 

crest  of  the  rim  and  then  continued  through  ele- 
phant grass  ten  feet  high,  then  dense  forest,  and 
finally  through  miles  of  clean,  cool,  shadowy  bam- 


In   the   Belt    of   Bamboo 


Giant  Cactus  Growth   in  the   Crater 


Up  Twelve  Thousand  Feet  in  the  Crater 


A    DRAMATIC    EPISODE  297 

boos — always  steadily  climbing.  The  trail  was 
fairly  good  and  our  progress  was  encouraging. 

There  were  many  elephant  pits  in  the  bamboo 
forest,  but  they  were  all  ancient  ones,  half-filled 
with  decayed  leaves  and  obviously  unused  for  half 
a  century  or  more.  From  some  of  them  fairly  large- 
sized  trees  had  grown.  Sometimes  in  the  midst  of 
these  great,  silent,  light-green  forests  we  came  upon 
giant  trees,  tangled  and  gnarled,  with  trunks 
twenty  or  thirty  feet  in  circumference.  In  vain  we 
looked  for  the  impassable  trail  the  natives  had 
warned  us  to  expect. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  we  came  to  a  wonderful 
cave,  over  the  mouth  of  which  a  wonderful  fan- 
shaped  waterfall  dropped  seventy  feet  or  more. 
My  aneroid  barometer  indicated  an  elevation  of 
eighty-two  hundred  feet,  showing  that  we  had 
climbed  twenty-seven  hundred  feet  since  morning. 
We  found  a  little  clearing  in  the  bamboo  forest 
and  pitched  our  tents  on  ground  that  sloped  down 
like  the  roof  of  a  house.  The  clearing  was  barely 
fifty  yards  long,  yet  our  twenty  or  more  tents  were 
pitched,  our  horses  tethered  in  the  middle,  and  the 
camp-fires  crackled  merrily  as  the  chill  air  of  night 
came  down  upon  us.  From  the  forest  came  the  mul- 
titude of  sounds  that  told  of  strange  birds  and  ani- 
mals that  were  out  on  their  nocturnal  hunt  for  food. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  safari  was  sent  on  with 
the  guides  while  we  remained  to  explore  the  cave. 
It  was  an  immense  cavern,  with  an  entrance  hall,  or 
foyer,  about  thirty  feet  high  and  a  hundred  feet  in 


298  IN    AFRICA 

length.  Along  the  inner  edge  were  the  crumbling 
remains  of  little  mud  and  wattle  huts  that  had  been 
occupied  by  people  a  long  time  before.  Beyond 
this  great  entrance  hall  were  passages  that  led  into 
other  vast,  echoing  caverns  with  domes  like  those  of 
a  cathedral. 

Countless  thousands  of  bats  darted  about  us  as 
our  voices  broke  the  silence  of  ages,  and  in  places 
the  deposits  of  bats  were  two  or  three  feet  deep. 
It  staggered  one's  senses  to  think  how  long  these 
creatures  had  dwelt  within  the  labyrinth  of  caverns 
and  passageways. 

We  explored  the  cave  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or 
so,  stumbling,  stooping,  climbing,  and  sliding  down 
precipitous  slopes.  Far  off  in  the  darkness  sounded 
the  steady  drip,  drip,  drip  of  water,  and  several 
times  our  progress  was  stopped  by  black  lakes  into 
which  a  tossed  stone  would  tell  of  depths  that  might 
be  almost  bottomless.  We  fired  our  shotguns  and 
the  loosened  dirt  and  rocks  and  the  thunder  of  thou- 
sands of  bats'  wings  were  enough  to  terrify  the 
senses. 

There  is  no  telling  how  many  centuries  or  ages 
these  caverns  have  stood  as  they  stand  to-day. 
Doubtless  the  wild  tribes  of  the  mountain  have  oc- 
cupied them  for  thousands  of  years,  and  doubtless 
a  thousand  years  from  now  the  descendants  of  these 
tribes  of  people  and  bats  will  still  be  there  in  the 
cisternlike  caverns  with  the  broad  fan  of  sparkling 
water  spreading  like  a  beautiful  curtain  across  the 
great  archway  of  an  entrance. 


A    DRAMATIC    EPISODE  299 

That  night,  after  hours  of  climbing  through 
great  forests  and  across  grassy  slopes  gay  with 
countless  varieties  of  beautiful  and  strange  flowers, 
we  pitched  our  camp  on  a  wind-swept  height  eleven 
thousand  feet  up.  The  peaks  of  the  mountain  rose 
high  above  us  only  a  mile  or  so  farther  on. 

When  the  night  fell  the  cold  was  intense,  and  we 
huddled  about  the  camp-fire  for  warmth.  Around 
each  of  the  porters'  camp-fires  the  humped-up  na- 
tives crouched  and  dreamed  of  the  warm  valleys  far 
below  in  the  darkness.  I  suppose  the  cold  made 
them  irritable,  for  just  as  we  were  preparing  to 
turn  in  there  suddenly  came  a  succession  of  screams 
from  one  of  the  groups — screams  of  a  boy  in  mor- 
tal terror.  The  sounds  breaking  out  so  unexpect- 
edly in  the  silent  night  were  enough  to  freeze  the 
blood  in  one's  veins.  I  never  heard  such  frantic 
screams — like  those  that  might  come  from  a  tor- 
ture-chamber. 

One  of  the  porters  had  become  infuriated  by  one 
of  the  totos — small  boys  who  go  along  to  help 
the  porters — and  had  started  in  to  beat  him.  The 
boy  was  probably  more  frightened  than  hurt,  but 
the  matter  was  one  demanding  instant  punitive  ac- 
tion. So  Abdi  immediately  inflicted  it  in  a  most 
satisfying  manner. 

Once  more  the  silence  of  the  mountain  fell  upon 
the  camp,  but  it  was  hours  before  the  shock  to  one's 
senses  could  be  forgotten.  I  never  before,  nor  never 
again  expect  to  hear  screams  more  harrowing  or 
terrifying. 


300  IN    AFRICA 

The  next  day  a  Martian  sitting  upon  his  planet 
with  a  powerful  glass  might  have  seen  the  amazing 
sight  of  three  horses,  one  mule,  two  bullocks,  a  goat, 
and  a  sheep,  preceded  and  followed  by  over  a  hun- 
dred human  beings,  painfully  creep  over  the  rim 
of  the  crater  and  breathlessly  pause  before  the  great 
panorama  of  Africa  that  lay  stretched  out  for  hun- 
dreds of  miles  on  all  sides.  It  was  as  though  an 
army  had  ascended  Mont  Blanc,  and  thus  Hannibal 
crossing  the  Alps  was  repeated  on  a  small  scale. 

Leaving  our  horses  on  the  rim  of  the  crater,  a 
few  of  us  climbed  the  highest  peak,  fourteen  thou- 
sand three  hundred  and  seventy-five  feet  high,  as 
registered  by  my  aneroid  barometer,  and  stood 
where  very  few  had  stood  before.  Even  the  official 
height  of  the  mountain,  as  given  on  the  maps,  was 
found  to  be  inaccurate,  and  illustrated  how  vaguely 
the  geographers  knew  the  mountain. 

That  night  we  camped  in  the  crater,  twelve  thou- 
sand feet  up,  and  washed  in  a  boiling  sulphur  spring 
that  sprang  from  the  rocks  on  the  Uganda  side. 
Perhaps  this  was  the  boiling  fountain  the  supersti- 
tious natives  feared,  for  it  was  the  only  one  we  saw. 
And  perhaps  the  great  gorge  through  which  the 
river  Turkwel,  or  Suam,  flowed  on  its  long  journey 
north  was  the  door  that  Askar  had  told  us  about.  It 
was  the  only  door  we  saw,  but  Askar  said  the  door 
he  meant  was  away  off  somewhere  else,  and  he  was 
so  vague  and  confused  in  his  bearings  that  we  felt 
his  information  was  unreliable. 

The  crater  of  Mount  Elgon  has  long  since  lost 


A    DRAMATIC    EPISODE 


301 


any  resemblance  to  a  volcanic  crater.  It  is  a  great 
valley,  or  bowl,  surrounded  by  a  lofty  rim  that  in 
reality  is  a  considerable  chain  of  mountains.  The 
bowl  is  two  or  three  miles  long  and  as  much  wide, 
with  tall  grass  growing  on  the  small  hills  inside  and 
thousands  upon  thousands  of  curious  cactus-like 


In  the  Crater  of  Mount  Elgon 

trees.  Several  mountain  streams  tumble  down  from 
the  gorges  between  the  peaks  and,  uniting,  flow  out 
of  the  big  gap  in  one  stream,  the  river  Turkwel, 
which  separates  Uganda  from  British  East  Africa. 
Mount  Elgon  is  not  an  imposing  mountain  and 
on  most  occasions  there  is  no  snow  on  its  peaks. 


302  IN    AFRICA 

Only  one  time  during  the  several  weeks  that  we 
were  in  sight  of  it  was  its  summit  capped  with  snow. 
A  few  species  of  small  animals  live  in  the  crater, 
but  no  human  beings.  At  night  ice  formed  in  the 
little  pools  where  we  camped  and  a  furious  wind, 
biting  cold,  swept  down  from  the  peaks  and  eddied 
out  of  the  great  gap  where  the  Turkwel  flows. 

To  all  of  our  safari  it  was  a  welcome  hour  when 
we  struck  camp,  preparatory  to  leaving  the  crater 
for  the  lower  levels.  The  guides  said  there  were 
only  two  ways  out — one  by  the  Turkwel  gorge  and 
the  other  by  the  route  up  which  wre  came.  The  for- 
mer might  lead  us  far  from  any  sources  of  food 
supplies,  which  by  that  time  were  becoming  impera- 
tively necessary,  and  the  latter  was  undesirable  un- 
less as  a  last  resort.  After  some  deliberation  we 
resolved  to  climb  over  the  eastern  rim  and  strike  for 
the  Nzoia  River.  No  one  had  ever  been  known  to 
take  this  course,  but  we  felt  that  we  could  cut  our 
way  out  and  make  trails  sufficient  to  follow. 

The  guides  refused  to  go,  because  by  doing  so 
they  would  enter  a  district  where  they  might  en- 
counter tribes  that  were  hostile  to  their  own.  On 
one  side  of  this  mountain  there  was  a  bitter  tribal 
war  even  then  under  way.  So  we  cheerfully  said 
good-by  to  the  Elgonyi  guides  and  slowly  climbed 
the  rock  rim  and  started  for  the  unknown. 

For  two  days  we  climbed  downward,  sometimes 
along  ancient  elephant  trails  and  sometimes  along 
the  sheep  trails  made  by  the  flocks  of  mountain 
tribes.  Several  times  we  came  upon  deserted  Wan- 


A    Deserted   Wanderobo   Village 


Where  We   Had  Our  Thanksgiving  Day  Lunch 


A    DRAMATIC    EPISODE 


303 


derobo  villages,  and  it  was  evident  the  natives  who 
occupied  them  were  abandoning  their  homes  in  ter- 
ror before  our  descending  column.  Sometimes  we 
groped  our  way  through  great  forests  in  which 
there  was  no  trail  to  follow,  and  sometimes  we  cut 
our  way  through  dense  jungle  thickets  like  a  solid 
wall  of  vegetation. 


Galloping  Lions 

[Upon  several  occasions  we  came  to  impassable 
places  where  an  abrupt  cliff  would  necessitate  a 
tiresome  return  and  a  new  attempt.  Once  we  came 
to  a  little  clearing  in  the  vast  forest  where  the  grass 
was  like  a  lawn  and  where  towering  trees  rose  like 
the  arches  of  a  great  cathedral  a  hundred  feet 
above.  It  was  the  most  beautiful,  serene  and  majes- 


304  IN    AFRICA 

tic  spot  I  have  ever  seen.  Even  the  religious 
grandeur  of  Nikko's  cryptomeria  aisles  was  in- 
comparable to  this. 

One  afternoon  our  column  found  itself  hope- 
lessly lost  in  a  jungle  growth  so  dense  that  one 
could  penetrate  it  only  by  cutting  a  tunnel  through, 
and  for  hours  we  hacked  and  hacked  and  made 
microscopic  progress.  At  last  the  head  of  the  col- 
umn came  to  an  abrupt  drop  of  a  couple  of  hundred 
feet  which  seemed  an  effectual  bar  to  all  further 
progress.  The  cliff  fell  off  at  an  angle  of  sixty 
degrees,  with  the  slope  densely  matted  with  heavy 
scrub  and  underbrush.  It  was  necessary  either  to 
retrace  our  ste^s  through  that  long  and  heart-break- 
ing jungle  or  else  find  a  way  down  the  cliff.  The 
water  was  gone  and  the  horses  must  be  got  to  water 
before  night. 

Then  followed  the  most  dramatic  episode  of  our 
trip.  We  simply  fell  over  the  cliff,  plunging, 
caroming,  and  ricocheting  down  through  the  masses 
of  vegetation.  How  the  horses  got  down  I  shall 
never  know  and  shall  always  consider  as  a  miracle. 
And  how  the  burden-bearing  porters  managed  to 
get  their  loads  down  is  even  more  of  a  mystery. 

Somewhere  down  below  we  heard  the  cry  of  a 
baby! 

That  meant  that  there  must  be  human  habitation 
near  and,  of  course,  a  mountain  stream,  and  per- 
haps guides  to  lead  HS  out  of  the  mountain  fastness. 
A  few  moments  more  of  falling  and  sliding  and 
plunging,  and  the  advance  guard  came  into  a  tiny 


A    DRAMATIC    EPISODE 


305 


clearing  where  a  fire  was  burning.    A  rude  Wan- 
derobo  shack,  built  around  the  base  of  a  towering 


Coming  Down  the  Mountain 

tree  from  which  fell  great  festoons  of  giant  creep- 
ers, stood  in  the  center  of  the  clearing.  Some  food, 
still  hot,  was  found  in  the  vessels  in  which  it  had 


306  IN    AFRICA 

been  cooking.  The  people  had  fled  and  had  been 
swallowed  up  in  the  silent  depths  of  the  forest. 

We  called  and  shouted,  but  no  answer  came. 
Some  of  our  porters  proceeded  to  rob  the  shack  of 
its  store  of  wild  honey,  but  were  apprehended  in 
time  and  were  threatened  with  violent  punishment 
if  it  continued.  Then  we  prepared  to  make  camp. 
There  was  no  space  for  our  tents,  and  trees  had  to 
be  cut  down  and  a  little  clearing  made.  Here 
the  tents  were  huddled  together,  clinging  to  the 
sloping  mountain  side.  Darkness  fell,  and  then  a 
most  wonderful  thing  happened. 

One  of  the  tent  boys  who  was  searching  for  fire- 
wood in  the  darkening  forest  found  a  little  naked 
baby,  barely  three  months  old.  It  had  been  thrown 
away  as  its  mother,  as  she  thought,  fled  for  her  life. 
The  baby  was  brought  into  camp,  wrapped  up,  and 
cared  for,  and  it  will  never  know  how  near  it  came 
to  being  devoured  by  a  leopard  or  a  forest  hog.  It 
was  the  crying  of  this  baby  that  we  heard,  and  we 
assumed  that  its  mother  had  cast  it  aside  so  that 
its  wailing  would  not  betray  the  hiding-place  of  the 
remainder  of  her  family.  One  can  only  imagine 
what  her  terror  must  have  been  to  make  this  sacri- 
fice in  the  common  interest. 

Now,  a  three-months-old  baby  is  a  good  deal  of  a 
problem  for  a  safari  to  handle.  In  our  equipment 
we  had  made  no  provision  for  the  care  of  infants. 
We  could  wrap  it  up  and  keep  it  warm  and  feed  it 
canned  milk,  but  I  imagine  the  proper  care  of  a 
little  babe  requires  even  more  than  that.  It  was 


A  Tent  Boy  Found  It 


308  IN    AFRICA 

imperative  that  we  find  the  mother  before  the  baby 
died. 

So  we  first  enjoined  our  mob  of  porters,  who 
are  chronically  noisy,  to  be  quiet  under  penalty  of 
a  severe  Jciboko  punishment.  We  then  sent  out 
Kavirondo,  the  big,  good-natured  porter  who  al- 
ways acted  as  our  interpreter  when  dealing  with 
the  natives  of  the  mountain  district.  He  spoke  the 
dialects  of  the  Wanderobo  tribes.  He  was  a  mes- 
senger of  peace,  and  he  was  told  to  shout  out 
through  the  forest  that  we  were  friendly,  that  we 
had  the  baby,  and  that  the  mother  should  come  and 
get  it.  We  felt  absolutely  certain  that  the  sound  of 
his  voice  would  carry  to  where  the  mother  was  hid- 
den. 

For  an  hour  or  more  we  heard  the  strong  voice  of 
Kavirondo  crying  out  his  message  of  peace,  and 
yet  no  answering  cry  came  from  the  black  depths 
of  the  forest.  It  began  to  look  as  if  we  were  one 
little  black  baby  ahead.  In  the  meantime  the  baby 
was  behaving  beautifully.  It  was  wrapped  warmly 
in  a  bath  towel  and  seemed  to  enjoy  the  attention  it 
was  receiving.  Some  one  suggested  that  we  leave 
it  in  the  shack  and  then  all  retire  so  that  the  mother 
could  creep  in  and  recover  it.  But  this  had  one 
objection — a  leopard  might  creep  in  first. 

We  cooked  our  dinner  and  away  off  in  the  forest 
came  the  echoing  shouts  of  Kavirondo.  The  camp 
settled  down  to  quiet  and  the  camp-fires  twinkled 
among  the  towering  trees.  Then  some  one  rushed 
in  to  say  that  the  father  and  mother  had  come  in. 


Kavirondo 


Outlined   Against  the   Sky 


A   Reception   Committee 


A    DRAMATIC    EPISODE 


309 


Kavirondo  had  restored  the  baby!  There  was  an 
instant  impulse  to  rush  down  to  see  the  glad  re- 
union, but  better  counsel  prevailed.  Such  a  charge, 
en  masse,  even  though  friendly,  might  frighten  the 
natives  away.  So  Akeley  alone  went  down  and 
assured  the  father  and  mother  that  we  were  friendly 


She  Threw  Her  Baby  Away 

and  that  nothing  would  harm  them.  And  when  he 
came  back  it  was  to  report  that  the  parents  and  the 
little  baby  were  peacefully  installed  in  their  forest 
home  again. 

Early  in  the  morning  we  went  down  to  see  our 
strange  friends.  They  had  greatly  increased  in 
number  during  the  night.  There  were  now  one 
man,  two  of  his  wives,  an  old  woman,  and  eight  chil- 


310  IN    AFRICA 

dren,  and  the  tiny  baby.  All  fear  had  vanished, 
and  they  seemed  certain  that  no  harm  was  likely  to 
come  to  them. 

The  man  was  a  good-looking,  strongly  built  na- 
tive with  fine  honest  eyes.  The  women  were  comely 
and  the  children  positively  handsome.  I  have  never 
seen  such  a  healthy,  fine-eyed,  well-built  assortment 
of  childhood,  ranging  all  the  way  from  three 
months  up  to  eight  or  nine  years  of  age.  He  was 
the  president  of  the  Anti-Race  Suicide  Club.  We 
gave  them  all  presents — beads  to  the  children  and 
brass  wire  to  the  women.  We  also  made  up  a  little 
fund  of  rupees  for  the  baby,  although  money 
seemed  to  mean  nothing  to  any  of  them.  They  had 
never  seen  white  men  before  and  probably  knew 
nothing  of  metal  money.  Beads  and  brass  wire  were 
the  only  currency  they  knew.  We  tried  to  photo- 
graph them,  but  the  shades  in  the  forest  were  deep 
and  the  light  too  was  bad  for  successful  pictures. 

Little  by  little  we  got  their  story. 

There  was  warfare  between  the  forest  people  and 
the  savage  Kara  Mojas  to  the  north.  Neither  side 
could  ever  tell  when  a  band  of  the  foe  would  swoop 
down  upon  them,  killing  the  men,  stealing  the  sheep 
and  seizing  the  women.  Only  a  few  months  before 
one  of  the  Kara  Mojas  had  come  in  and  stolen  some 
sheep  and  in  return  our  Wanderobo  friend  had 
sallied  forth,  killed  the  Kara  Moja,  and  captured 
his  wife.  It  was  the  latter  who  was  now  the  mother 
of  the  little  baby,  and  she  seemed  quite  reconciled  to 
the  change. 


A    DRAMATIC    EPISODE 


311 


When,  the  night  before,  the  little  family  around 
the  camp-fire  heard  the  crashing  of  brushes  and  the 


The  W  anderobos'  Home 


hacking  of  underbrush  and  the  shouts  of  our  por- 
ters they  thought  a  great  force  of  the  Kara  Mojas 
was  upon  them.  So  they  fled  in  terror.  The  baby 
cried,  and,  fearful  that  its  wails  would  betray  their 


312  IN    AFRICA 

hiding-place,  they  had  cast  it  away  in  the  bushes. 
Then  they  had  fled  into  the  depths  of  the  forest 
and,  huddled  together  in  silent  fear,  waited  in  the 
hope  that  the  Kara  Mojas  would  leave.  Finally 
they  heard  Kavirondo's  shouts  and  then  after  hours 
of  indecision  they  decided  to  come  in. 

That  is  the  end  of  the  story.  The  Wanderobo, 
grateful  to  us,  led  us  by  secret  trails  out  of  the 
wilderness,  or  as  far  as  he  dared  to  ,go.  He  led  us 
to  the  edge  of  the  enemy's  country  and  then  re- 
turned to  his  forest  home. 

In  a  couple  of  days  of  hard  marching,  one  of 
which  was  through  soaking  torrents  of  rain,  without 
food  for  ten  hours,  we  reached  the  Nzoia  River. 
Our  mountain  troubles  were  over. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ELECTEIC  LIGHTS,  MOTOR-CARS  AND  FIFTEEN  VARIE- 
TIES OF  WILD  GAME.    CHASING  LIONS  ACROSS 
COUNTRY  IN  A  CARRIAGE 

NAIROBI  is  a  thriving,  bustling  city,  with  motor 
cars,  electric  lights,  clubs,  race  meets,  balls,  ban- 
quets, and  all  the  frills  that  constitute  an  up-to-date 
community.  Carriages  and  dog-carts  and  motor- 
cycles rush  about,  and  lords  and  princes  and  earls 
sit  upon  the  veranda  of  the  leading  hotel  in  hunt- 
ing costumes.  Lying  out  from  Nairobi  are  big 
grazing  farms,  many  of  them  fenced  in  with 
barbed  wire;  and  the  peaceful  rows  of  telegraph 
poles  make  exclamation  points  of  civilization  across 
the  landscape.  It  doesn't  sound  like  good  hunting 
in  such  a  district,  does  it?  Yet  this  is  what  actually 
happened : 

We  had  discharged  our  safari,  packed  up  our 
tents,  and  were  just  ready  to  start  to  Mombasa  to 
catch  a  ship  for  Bombay.  A  telegram  unex- 
pectedly arrived,  saying  that  the  boat  would  not 
sail  until  three  days  later,  so  we  decided  to  put  in 
two  or  three  more  mornings  of  shooting  out  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  city. 

We  got  a  carriage,  a  low-necked  vehicle  drawn 
by  two  little  mules.  It  was  driven  by  a  young  black 

313 


814  IN    AFRICA 

boy,  and  we  got  another  boy  from  the  hotel  to  go 
along  for  general  utility  purposes.  Into  this  ve- 
hicle we  placed  our  guns,  and  at  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning  drove  out  of  the  town.  In  fifteen  or 
twenty  minutes  we  had  passed  through  the  streets 
and  had  reached  the  pleasant  roads  of  the  open 
plains.  Soon  we  passed  the  race-track  and  then 
bowled  merrily  along  between  peaceful  barbed-wire 
fences.  Occasional  groups  of  Kikuyus  were  tramp- 
ing along  the  road,  bringing  in  eggs  or  milk  to 
Nairobi.  A  farm-house  or  two  lay  off  to  either  side, 
and  once  or  twice  we  passed  boys  herding  little 
bunches  of  ostriches. 

At  about  a  quarter  to  eight  we  drove  up  the  tree- 
lined  avenue  of  a  farm-house  and  a  pleasant- faced 
woman  responded  to  our  knock.  We  asked  for  per- 
mission to  shoot  on  the  farm  and  were  told  that  we 
were  quite  welcome  to  shoot  as  much  as  we  wished. 

Five  minutes  later,  less  than  an  hour's  drive  from 
Nairobi,  we  drove  past  a  herd  of  nearly  sixty  im- 
palla.  They  watched  us  gravely  from  a  distance  of 
two  hundred  yards.  At  this  point  we  left  the  well- 
traveled  road  and  drove  into  the  short  prairie  grass 
that  carpeted  the  Athi  Plains.  The  carriage 
bumped  pleasantly  along,  and  as  we  reached  a  little 
rise  a  few  hundred  feet  away,  the  great  stretch  of 
the  plains  lay  spread  out  before  us. 

Mount  Kenia,  eighty  or  ninety  miles  north,  was 
clear  and  bright  with  its  snow-capped  peaks  spark- 
ling in  the  early  sunlight.  Off  to  its  left  rose  the 
Aberdare  Range,  with  the  dominating  peak  of 


A    Nest   of   Ostrich   Eggs 


A   Herd   of  Ostriches 


We    Bumped    Merrily    Along 


ACROSS    COUNTRY    IN    A    CARRIAGE        315 

Kinangop ;  to  its  right  rose  the  lone  bald  uplift  of 
Donyo  Sabuk,  and  to  the  east  were  the  blue  Lukenia 
Hills.  The  house-tops  of  Nairobi  waved  miragic- 
ally  in  the  valley,  with  a  low  range  of  blue  hills  be- 
yond. Across  the  plains  ran  the  row  of  telegraph 
poles  that  marked  the  course  of  the  railway  and  a 
traveling  column  of  smoke  indicated  the  busy  course 
of  a  railway  train.  This  was  the  setting  within 
which  lay  the  broad  stretches  of  the  Athi  Plains, 
billowing  in  waves  like  a  grass-covered  sea. 

As  wre  drove  along  big  herds  of  zebras  paused  in 
their  grazing  to  regard  the  carriage  as  it  merrily 
bumped  across  the  hills.  As  long  as  we  remained  in 
the  vehicle  they  showed  no  alarm,  for  they  had  seen 
many  carriages  along  the  neighboring  roads.  It 
was  only  when  the  carriage  stopped  that  they 
showed  an  apprehensive  interest.  Great  numbers 
of  Coke's  hartebeest  watched  us  with  humorous 
interest.  An  eland  grazed  peacefully  upon  a  dis- 
tant hill,  and  a  wart-hog  trotted  away  as  we  ap- 
proached. Immense  numbers  of  Thompson's  gazelle 
skipped  away  merrily  and  then  turned  to  regard  us 
with  widespread  ears  and  alert  eyes.  Two  Grant's 
gazelles  were  seen,  wrhile  far  off  upon  a  grassy  hill- 
side were  many  wildebeest — the  animal  that  we 
were  seeking.  It  was  impossible  to  get  close 
enough  to  shoot  effectively,  and  after  a  time  we 
gave  up  our  attempts  in  that  direction. 

The  wildebeest,  although  living  so  near  Nairobi, 
are  most  wild,  and  with  miles  of  plains  stretching 
out  upon  all  sides  it  is  easy  for  them  to  keep  several 


316 


IN    AFRICA 


hundred  yards  of  space  between  themselves  and 
danger.  We  spent  a  couple  of  hours  of  fruitless 
stalking  and  then  were  obliged  to  hurry  back  to 
town  in  order  to  be  at  the  hotel  when  the  tiffin  bell 
rang. 

I  had  not  yet  secured  a  Thompson's  gazelle, 
so  we  stopped  and  each  of  us  shot  one  on  our  way 
to  the  road.  Then  we  returned  to  town.  People 
along  the  streets  regarded  us  with  surprised  inter- 


Shooting  Wildebeest  (Cross  Marks  Location  of  Wildebeest, 
Outward  Bound) 

est,  for  there  were  two  gazelles  hanging  out  of  the 
carriage  and  our  four  rifles  gave  the  vehicle  an 
incongruously  warlike  aspect. 

The  next  morning  at  seven  o'clock  we  were  again 
in  our  carriage.  We  drove  out  to  the  same  place 
and  at  a  few  minutes  after  eight  we  were  amazed 
to  see  a  wild  dog  rise  from  the  grass  and  look  at 
us.  We  hastily  jumped  out  of  the  carriage  and 
walked  toward  him.  In  a  moment  a  number  of 
others  rose  from  the  grass,  until  we  saw  seventeen 


ACROSS    COUNTRY    IX    A    CARRIAGE        317 

of  them.  This  animal  is  seldom  seen  by  sportsmen, 
and  I  believe  it  is  considered  quite  rare.  In  four 
months  only  one  of  our  party  had  previously  seen 
any.  Sometimes  they  savagely  attack  human  be- 
ings, and  when  they  do  their  attack  is  fierce  and 
hard  to  repel.  They  watched  us  narrowly  as  we 
approached  them  and  then  moved  slowly  away. 
They  seemed  neither  afraid  nor  ferocious. 

We  each  shot  and  missed.  The  pack  split,  and 
Stephenson  followed  one  little  bunch  while  I  fol- 
lowed another.  My  course  led  me  toward  a  shal- 
low, rock-strewn  nullah,  and  once  or  twice  I  fired 
again  at  the  wild  dogs.  But  I  couldn't  hit  them. 
There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  my  failure  to 
make  a  good  shot,  but  Stephenson,  who  is  a  cele- 
brated rifle  shot,  seemed  to  be  equally  unfortunate 
in  his  work.  He  was  some  distance  away  and  his 
bullets  would  not  go  where  he  wanted  them  to  go. 

Suddenly  my  attention  was  riveted  upon  three 
forms  that  walked  slowly  out  of  the  nullah  and 
climbed  the  slope  on  the  other  side,  about  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  yards  away.  I  was  transfixed  with 
amazement  and  could  hardly  believe  my  eyes. 

They  were  lions! 

One  was  a  female  and  the  other  two  immense 
males.  They  were  walking  slowly,  and  once  or 
twice  they  stopped  to  look  back  at  me.  Then  they 
resumed  their  stately  retreat. 

As  soon  as  I  recovered  from  my  astonishment  I 
shouted  to  Stephenson,  who  had  been  lured  far 
away  by  the  wild  dogs. 


S18  IN    AFRICA 

"Simba!"  I  yelled,  pointing  to  the  three  lions. 

He  seemed  not  to  comprehend,  and  I  saw  him 
reluctantly  turn  from  the  dogs  and  fix  his  glasses 
upon  the  direction  I  indicated.  In  no  time  he  was 
hurrying  up  to  join  me,  and  we  hastily  formed  a 
plan  of  campaign.  The  lions  had  now  disappeared 
over  the  brow  of  the  hill.  I  looked  at  my  watch 
and  the  hour  was  not  yet  nine  o'clock.  We  were 
still  in  sight  of  the  distant  house-tops  of  Nairobi. 
It  seemed  unbelievable. 

We  crossed  the  nullah  and  the  carriage  jolted 
down  and  across  a  few  minutes  later.  We  took  our 
seats  and  studied  the  plains  with  our  glasses.  The 
lions  were  not  in  sight.  Then  we  studied  the  herds 
of  game  and  saw  that  many  of  them  were  looking 
in  a  certain  direction.  We  drove  in  that  direction 
and  whipped  up  the  mules  to  a  lively  trot.  In  a 
few  minutes  Stephenson  picked  up  the  three  lions 
far  to  the  left,  where  they  were  slowly  making  their 
way  toward  another  ravine  a  mile  or  so  beyond. 

Then  began  one  of  the  strangest  lion  hunts  ever 
recorded  in  African  sporting  annals. 

You  may  have  read  of  the  practice  of  "riding" 
lions.  Doctor  Rainsford,  in  his  splendid  book  on 
lion  hunting,  describes  this  thrilling  sport  in  such 
vivid  words  that  you  shiver  as  you  read  them. 
Mounted  men  gallop  after  the  lion,  bring  it  to  bay, 
and  then  hold  it  there  until  the  white  hunter  comes 
up  to  a  close  range  and  shoots  it.  In  the  meantime 
the  cornered  beast  is  charging  savagely  at  the 
horsemen,  who  trust  to  the  speed  and  quickness  of 


g    - 


'"•s.  »,• 

j-t          *    - 

-'- 


-  - 


A    Kikuvu   Woman    Uses    Her   Head 


On  the  Athi  Plains 


It  Was  a  Rakish   Craft 


ACROSS    COUNTRY    IN    A    CARRIAGE        319 

their  mounts  to  elude  the  angry  rushes  of  the  infu- 
riated animal.  It  is  a  most  spectacular  method  of 
lion  hunting  and  is  only  eclipsed  in  danger  and 
daring  by  the  native  method  of  surrounding  a  lion 
and  spearing  it  to  death. 

To  my  knowledge,  no  one  has  ever  "galloped"  a 
lion  in  a  carriage  drawn  by  two  mules,  and  prob- 
ably few  hunters  have  ever  galloped  three  lions  at 
one  time  under  any  conditions. 

It  was  a  memorable  chase.  The  mules  were  lashed 
into  a  gallop  and  the  carriage  rocked  like  a  Channel 


It  Rocked  Like  a  Channel  Steamer 

steamer.  We  were  gaining  rapidly  and  the  distance 
separating  us  from  the  lions  was  quickly  diminish- 
ing. It  seemed  as  if  the  three  lions  were  not  espec- 
ially eager  to  escape,  for  they  moved  away  slowly, 
as  if  half -inclined  to  turn  upon  us. 

We  hoped  to  overtake  them  before  they  reached 
the  ravine  or  such  uneven  ground  as  would  compel 
us  to  abandon  the  carriage. 

Five  hundred  yards!  Then  four  hundred  yards, 
and  soon  three  hundred  yards.  The  mules  were 
doing  splendidly,  and  we  knew  that  we  should  soon 
be  within  good  shooting  distance.  At  two  hundred 


320 


IN    AFRICA 


and  fifty  yards  the  largest  of  the  two  males,  a 
great,  black-maned  lion,  stopped  and  turned 
toward  us.  His  two  companions  continued  moving 
away  toward  the  ravine. 

Thinking  it  a  good  moment  to  strike,  we  leaped 
from  the  carriage  and  knelt  to  fire.  Stephenson 
shot  at  the  big  black-mane  and  I  at  the  male  that 
was  retreating.  Both  shots  missed.  The  black- 


At  Two  Hundred  and  Fifty  Yards 

mane  resumed  his  retreat  and  we  got  in  a  couple 
more  ineffectual  shots  before  the  three  lions  dis- 
appeared over  the  brow  of  the  ravine. 

Once  more  in  the  carriage  and  another  wild 
gallop  as  far  as  the  vehicle  would  go.  For  a  few 
moments  we  lost  sight  of  the  lions,  but  presently 
we  saw  them  climbing  up  the  opposite  slope,  four 
hundred  yards  away.  It  was  a  long  distance  to 
shoot,  but  we  hoped  to  bring  them  to  bay  at  least  by 
wounding  them  into  a  fighting  mood.  The  large 


ACROSS    COUNTRY    IX    A    CARRIAGE        321 

lion  turned  and  swung  along  the  brow  of  the  hill; 
the  others  disappeared  over  the  opposite  side,  but 
they  soon  reappeared  some  distance  farther  to  the 
right. 

Little  spurts  of  dirt  showed  where  our  bullets 
were  striking.  Once  I  kicked  up  the  ground  just 
under  him  and  once  a  shot  from  Stephenson  passed 
so  close  to  his  nose  that  he  ducked  his  head  angrily. 

We  became  frantic  with  eagerness  and  continued 
disappointment.  The  thought  of  losing  the  finest 
lion  we  had  seen  on  the  whole  trip  was  maddening, 
yet  it  seemed  impossible  to  hit  him. 

Then  he  disappeared  and  probably  rejoined  his 
companions  in  a  retreat  that  led  down  into  the  ra- 
vine where  it  wound  far  away  from  us.  There  were 
patches  of  reeds  in  the  ravine  and  it  was  there  that 
I  thought  they  would  hide. 

Sending  the  carriage  in  a  wide  detour,  we 
climbed  across  a  spur  of  the  ravine  and  tried  to  pick 
up  the  trail.  Once  I  fell  upon  the  rocks  that  lined 
the  steep  sides  of  the  gully  and  cut  my  hand  so 
deeply  that  the  scar  will  always  remain  as  a  re- 
minder of  that  eventful  day.  Stephenson  kept  to 
the  top  of  the  ridge,  believing  that  the  lions  would 
continue  across  the  ravine;  I  wejit  into  the  ravine, 
thinking  they  would  take  cover  in  the  reeds  and 
might  be  scared  out  with  a  shot  or  two. 

But  nothing  could  be  seen  of  them,  and  after 
half  an  hour  we  rejoined  on  the  top  of  the  hill, 
where  a  wide  view  of  the  whole  country  was  re- 
yealed. 


322  IN    AFRICA 

We  sat  down  in  despair.  The  greatest  chance  of 
the  whole  trip  was  gone. 

"That's  the  last  we'll  see  of  them,"  said  I 
oracularly  as  I  sat  upon  a  stone.  My  hand  was 
covered  with  blood,  but  alas !  it  was  mine  and  not  the 
lion's. 

The  carriage  appeared  and  we  held  a  prolonged 
consolation  meeting.  Suddenly  our  general  utility 
boy,  Happy  Bill,  uttered  a  low  cry  of  warning. 
We  turned,  and  there,  in  the  valley  ahead  of  us, 
the  three  lions  were  again  seen.  They  had  evidently 
passed  through  the  reeds  without  stopping  and  had 
continued  across  only  a  few  yards  from  where  we 
were  now  standing. 

Fate  seemed  determined  to  give  us  plenty  of 
chances  to  get  these  lions.  Again  we  opened  fire 
on  them  at  about  four  or  five  hundred  yards.  My 
big-gun  ammunition  was  gone,  so  I  fired  with  my 
.256. 

No  result!  The  distance  was  too  great  and  our 
bombardment  was  fruitless.  The  black-maned  lion 
was  in  a  bad  humor  and  repeatedly  turned  as  if 
intent  to  stop  and  defend  his  outraged  dignity.  In 
a  few  moments  the  three  lions  disappeared  in  the 
tall  grass  that  fringed  a  big  reed  bed  many  acres 
in  extent. 

For  an  hour  we  raked  the  reed  bed  with  shot, 
hoping  to  drive  them  from  cover.  But  that  was  the 
last  we  saw  of  the  lions.  A  little  bunch  of  water- 
buck  does  were  scared  up,  but  nothing  else.  The 
lions  were  now  safe,  for  nothing  less  than  fifty 


ACROSS    COUNTRY    IN    A    CARRIAGE 


323 


beaters  could  hope  to  dislodge  them  from  the  dense 
security  of  the  swamp. 

Talk  about  dejection!  Our  ride  back  to  town 
was  as  mournful  as  a  ride  could  be.  We  thought  of 
the  glory  of  driving  through  the  streets  of  Nairobi 
with  a  lion  or  two  hanging  over  the  back  of  the  car- 


It  Would  Have  Been  Historic 

riage.  It  would  have  been  historic.  Citizens  would 
have  talked  of  it  for  years.  It  would  have  taken  an 
honored  place  in  the  lion-hunting  literature  of 
Africa,  for  no  lion  hunters  have  ever  pursued  a 
band  of  lions  in  a  carriage  and  brought  back  a  car- 
riage-load of  them. 

We  almost  regretted  having  had  the  chance  that 
we  so  heartbreakingly  lost. 


324  IN    AFRICA 

But  we  told  about  it  when  we  struck  town,  and 
before  the  day  was  over  it  was  the  topic  in  hotels 
and  clubs  throughout  the  whole  town  of  Nairobi. 
Everybody  who  had  a  gun  was  resolved  to  go  out 
the  next  day,  and  interest  was  at  a  fever  pitch. 

We  went  out  again  the  following  morning,  shot 
at  wildebeests  at  all  known  ranges,  from  two  hun- 
dred yards  up  to  five  hundred  yards — but  our  luck 
was  against  us.  We  came  back  empty-handed,  and 
our  chief  reward  for  the  morning's  work  was  the 
great  privilege  of  seeing  both  Mount  Kenia,  ninety 
miles  north,  and  Kilima-Njaro,  nearly  two  hundred 
miles  southeast,  as  clear  as  a  cameo  against  the 
lovely  African  sky. 

The  lesson  of  this  story  is  not  so  much  a  review 
of  bad  shooting  or  of  bad  luck.  The  thing  that 
seems  most  noteworthy  is  that  within  six  or  seven 
miles  from  Nairobi,  nearly  all  the  time  within  sight 
of  the  house-tops  of  that  town,  we  had  seen  fifteen 
varieties  of  wild  game,  some  of  which  were  present 
iri^great  numbers. 

Wildebeest  Waterbuck 

Hartebeest  Impalla 

Hyena  Giant  Bustard 

Jackal  Ostrich 

Thompson's  Gazelle  Wart-hog 

Lion  Wild  Dog 

Rabbit  Steinbuck 
Grant's  Gazelle 

Surely  there  is  still  some  game  left  in  Africa. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   LAST   WORD   IN    LION    HUNTING.     METHODS   OF 
TRAILING,  ENSNARING  AND  OTHERWISE  OUT- 
WITTING THE  KING  OF  BEASTS.    A  CHAP- 
TER OF  ADVENTURES 

IF  some  one  were  to  start  a  correspondence  course 
in  lion  hunting  he  would  give  diagrams  and  in- 
structions showing  how  to  kill  a  lion  in  about  six 
different  styles —  namely: 

The  boma  method. 

The  tall  grass  method. 

The  riding  method. 

The  tree  method. 

The  lariat  method. 

The  spear  method. 

This  list  does  not  include  the  Ananias  method, 
formerly  popular. 

The  tree  and  boma  methods  are  much  esteemed 
by  those  sportsmen  who  wish  to  reduce  personal 
danger  to  the  least  common  denominator — the 
sportsmen  who  think  discretion  is  the  better  part  of 
valor  and  a  hunter  in  a  tree  is  worth  two  in  the 
bush.  The  sportsman  who  confines  himself  to  the 
tree  method  is  entitled  to  receive  a  medal  "for  con- 
spicuous caution  in  times  of  danger,"  and  the  loved 
ones  at  home  need  never  worry  about  his  safe  re- 

325 


320 


IN    AFRICA 


turn.  For  safe  lion  hunting  the  "tree"  method 
would  get  "first  prize,"  while  the  "boma"  method 
would  receive  honorable  mention. 

The  "tall  grass"  method  is  less  popular  in  that 
the  lion  has  some  show  and  often  succeeds  in  get- 
ting away  to  tell  about  it.  It  involves  danger  to  all 
concerned. 


Spearing  Lions 

The  "riding"  method  is  also  dangerous,  for  in  it 
the  hunter  endeavors  to  "round  up"  or  "herd"  a 
lion  by  riding  him  to  a  standstill.  When  the  lion 
is  fighting  mad  he  stops  and  turns  upon  his  perse- 
cutors. This  is  when  the  obituary  columns  thrive. 

The  "lariat"  method  is  not  as  yet  in  general 
vogue,  but  I  understand  that  "Buffalo"  Jones,  an 
'American,  succeeded  in  roping  a  lion  as  they  rope 
cattle  out  west.  It  sounds  diverting. 


A    Dead   I. ion    Is  a   Sign    for  Jubilation 


^ 

Mv-  r/^^^.^**,  d£^Ss3IKS 


A  Dethroned   King  of  Beasts 


METHODS    OF    LION    HUNTING  327 

The  "spear"  method  is  that  employed  by  natives, 
who,  armed  with  spear  and  shield,  surround  a  lion 
and  then  kill  it  with  their  spears.  They  invariably 
succeed,  but  not  until  a  few  of  the  spear-bear- 
ers are  more  or  less  Fletcherized  by  the  lion.  This 
method  does  not  appeal  to  those  who  wish  to  get 


The  Tree  Method 

home  to  tell  about  it,  and  need  not  be  considered  at 
length  in  any  correspondence  course. 

The  tree  method  is  comparatively  simple.  You 
build  a  platform  in  a  tree  and  place  a  bait  near  it. 
Then  you  wait  through  the  long,  silent  watches  of 
the  night  for  Felis  Leo  to  appear.  The  method 
has  few  dangers.  The  chief  one  lies  in  falling 
asleep  and  tumbling  out  of  the  tree,  but  this  is 
easily  obviated  by  making  the  platform  large 
enough  for  two  or  three  men,  two  of  whom  may 


328  IN    AFRICA 

stretch  out  and  sleep  while  the  other  one  remains 
awake  and  keeps  guard. 

When  I  went  to  Africa  I  resolved  never  to  climb 
a  tree.  Later  I  resolved  to  try  the  tree  method  in 
order  to  get  experience  in  a  form  of  lion  hunting 
that  has  many  advocates  among  the  valiant  hunters 
who  want  lion  skins  at  no  expense  to  their  own. 

Of  course,  there  are  some  perils  connected  with 
this  method  of  lion  slaying.  Mosquitoes  may  bite 
you,  causing  a  dreadful  fever  that  may  later  result 
in  death  in  some  lingering  and  costly  form.  Also 
the  biting  ants  may  pursue  you  up  to  your  aery 
perch  and  take  small  but  effective  bites  in  many 
itchable  but  unscratchable  points.  These  elements 
of  danger  are  about  the  only  ones  encountered  in 
the  tree  method  of  lion  hunting,  but  then  who  could 
expect  to  kill  lions  without  some  degree  of  personal 
discomfort? 

My  one  and  only  tree  experience  was  not  par- 
ticularly eventful.  A  large  and  commodious  plat- 
form was  built  in  the  .forks  of  a  great  tree  in  a 
district  where  the  questing  grunt  of  lions  could  be 
heard  each  night.  The  platform  was  comfort- 
able ;  it  only  needed  hot  and  cold  running  water  to 
be  a  delightful  place  to  spend  a  tropic  night. 

I  shot  a  hartebeest  and  had  it  dragged  beneath 
the  tree.  Then  my  two  native  gunbearers  and  I 
made  a  satisfactory  ascent  to  the  platform.  We 
had  a  thermos  bottle  filled  with  hot  tea,  and  some 
odds  and  ends  in  the  way  of  solid  refreshments. 
We  then  stretched  out  in  positions  that  commanded 


METHODS    OF    LION    HUNTING  329 

a  view  of  the  hartebeest  and  waited  patiently  for 
an  obliging  lion  to  come  and  be  shot. 

Night  came  on  and  soon  the  landscape  became 
shadowy  and  indistinct.  Trees  and  bushes  fused 
into  vague  black  masses  and  the  carcass  of  the  bait 
could  be  located  only  because  it  seemed  a  shade 
more  opaque  than  the  opaque  gloom  around  it.  The 
more  you  looked  at  it  the  more  elusive  and  shifting 
it  seemed.  The  sights  of  the  rifle  were  invisible, 
and  the  only  way  one  could  find  the  sight  was  by 
aiming  at  a  star  and  then  carefully  lowering  the 
direction  of  the  weapon  until  it  approximately 
pointed  at  the  carcass. 

Of  course,  we  were  very  still;  even  the  stars  were 
not  more  silent  than  we.  And  little  by  little  the 
noises  of  an  African  night  were  heard,  growing  in 
volume  until  from  all  sides  came  the  cries  of  night 
birds  and  the  songs  of  insects  and  tree-toads.  It 
was  the  apotheosis  of  loneliness.  And  thus  we  sat, 
with  eyes  straining  to  pierce  the  gloom  that  hedged 
us  in.  We  could  see  no  sign  of  life,  yet  all  about  us 
in  those  dark  shadows  there  were  thousands  of  crea- 
tures moving  about  on  their  nightly  hunt. 

Suddenly  there  came  the  soft  crescendo  of  a 
hyena's  howl  some  place  off  in  the  night.  It  was 
answered  by  another,  miles  away ;  then  another,  far 
off  in  a  still  different  direction.  The  scent  of  the 
bait  was  spreading  to  the  far  horizon  and  the  keen- 
scented  carrion-eaters  had  caught  it  and  were  hurry- 
ing to  the  feast. 

Then,  after  moments  of  waiting,  the  howls  came 


330  IN    AFRICA 

from  so  near  that  they  startled  us.  There  seemed  to 
be  dozens  of  hyenas — a  regular  class  reunion  of 
them — yet  not  one  could  be  seen  in  the  "murky 
gloom."  And  then,  a  moment  later,  we  heard  the 
crunching  of  teeth  and  the  slither  of  rending  flesh, 
and  we  knew  that  a  supper  party  of  hyenas  was 
gathered  about  the  festal  board  below  us.  I  was 
afraid  that  they  would  eat  up  the  carcass  and  thus 
keep  away  the  lions,  so  I  fired  a  shot  to  scare  them 
away.  There  was  a  quick  rush  of  feet — then  that 
dense,  expectant  silence  once  more.  Soon  some 
little  jackals  came  and  were  shooed  away.  Then 
more  hyenas  came,  were  given  their  conge,  and 
hurried  off  to  the  tall  grass.  And  yet  no  lion.  It 
was  quite  disappointing. 

At  midnight,  far  off  to  the  north,  came  the 
grunting  voice  of  a  lion.  I  waited  eagerly  for  the 
next  sound  which  would  indicate  whether  the  lure 
of  the  bait  was  beckoning  him  on.  And  soon  the 
sound  came,  this  time  much  nearer,  and  after  a  long 
silence  there  was  a  sharp,  snarling  grunt  of  a  lion, 
followed  by  the  panic-stricken  rush  of  a  hundred 
heavy  hoofs.  The  conjunction  of  sounds  told  the 
story  as  definitely  as  if  the  whole  scene  lay  bared 
to  view.  The  lion  had  leaped  upon  a  hartebeest, 
probably  instantly  breaking  its  neck,  while  the  rest 
of  the  herd  had  galloped  away  in  terror.  And  it 
had  all  happened  within  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
of  the  tree — yet  nothing  could  be  seen. 

At  two  o'clock  the  grunt  of  a  lion  was  again 
heard  far  off  to  the  south.  It  came  steadily  toward 


METHODS    OF    LION    HUNTING  331 

us,  and  at  last  there  was  no  doubt  about  its  destina- 
tion. It  was  coming-  to  the  bait.  How  my  eyes 
strained  to  pierce  the  darkness  and  how  breath- 
lessly I  waited  with  rifle  in  readiness !  But  the  lion 
only  paused  at  the  bait,  and  as  I  waited  for  it  to 
settle  down  to  its  feast  it  went  grunting  away  and 
the  chance  was  gone.  Perhaps  it  had  already  fed, 
or  perhaps  it  was  an  unusually  fastidious  lion  which 
desired  to  do  its  own  killing. 

An  hour  or  two  later,  both  gunbearers  asleep  and 
one  snoring  peacefully,  I  became  aware  of  a  large 
animal  feeding  at  the  bait.  Although  no  sound 
had  preceded  its  coming,  I  thought  it  might  be  a 
lion,  but  feared  that  it  was  a  hyena.  I  fired  at  the 
dark,  shifting,  black  shadow  and  the  roar  of  the  big 
rifle  shattered  the  silence  like  a  clap  of  unexpected 
thunder.  Then  there  was  such  a  dense  silence  that 
it  seemed  to  ring  in  one's  ears. 

Had  I  hit  or  missed  ?  That  could  not  be  decided 
until  daybreak,  for  it  is  the  height  of  folly  to  climb 
down  from  a  tree  to  feel  the  pulse  of  a  wounded 
lion. 

When  daybreak  came  we  made  an  investigation. 
Only  the  mangled  remains  of  the  carcass  lay  below. 
Later  in  the  day  some  members  of  our  party  came 
across  the  dead  body  of  a  hyena  lying  about  a  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  tree,  partly  hidden  by  a  little 
clump  of  bushes.  Its  backbone  was  shattered  by  a 
.475  bullet. 

Thus  ended  my  first  and  only  adventure  in  the 
"tree  method." 


332  IN    AFRICA 

The  boma  method  is  slightly  more  dangerous  and 
much  more  exciting.  A  lot  of  thorn  branches  are 
twisted  together  in  a  little  circle,  within  which  the 
hunter  sits  and  waits  for  his  lion.  As  in  the  tree 
method,  a  bait  is  placed  near  the  boma,  twelve  or 
fifteen  yards  away,  and  a  little  loophole  is  arranged 
in  the  tangle  of  thorn  branches  through  which  the 
rifle  may  be  trained  upon  the  bait. 


The  Boma  Method 

The  lion  can  not  get  into  the  boma  unless  he 
jumps  up  and  comes  in  from  the  top.  It  is  the 
function  of  the  hunter  to  prevent  this  strategic 
manoeuver  by  killing  the  lion  before  he  gets  in.  If 
he  does  not,  he  is  likely  to  find  himself  engaged  in  a 
spirited  hand-to-hand  fight  with  an  unfriendly  lion 
in  a  space  about  as  big  as-the  upper  berth  of  a  sleep- 
ing-car. 

My  first  boma  was  a  meshwork  of  thorns  piled 
and  interwoven  together  with  the  architectural  sim- 


METHODS    OF   LION    HUNTING  333 

plicity  of  an  Eskimo  igloo.  When  it  was  finished 
there  didn't  seem  to  be  the  ghost  of  a  chance  of  a 
lion  getting  in;  but  at  night,  as  I  looked  out,  it 
seemed  frail  indeed.  Some  dry  grass  was  piled 
inside,  with  blankets  spread  over  it  to  prevent 
rustling;  and  when  night  came  we  three,  myself 
and  two  gunbearers,  wormed  our  way  in  and  then 
pulled  some  pieces  of  brush  into  the  opening  after 
us.  The  rifles  were  sighted  on  the  bait  while  it  was 
still  daylight  and  at  a  spot  where  the  expected  lion 
might  appear.  Then  we  waited. 

The  customary  nocturne  by  birds,  beasts  and 
insects  began  before  long,  and  several  times  hyenas 
and  jackals  came  to  the  bait,  but  no  lions.  The 
boma  was  on  the  edge  of  a  great  swamp,  miles  in 
extent  and  a  great  rendezvous  for  game  of  many 
kinds.  Theoretically,  there  couldn't  be  a  better 
place  to  expect  lions,  but  nary  a  lion  appeared  that 
night. 

Upon  a  later  occasion — Christmas  night,  it  was 
— I  watched  from  a  boma  near  an  elephant  we  had 
killed,  but  except  for  the  distant  grunting  of  lions, 
there  was  nothing  important  to  chronicle. 

Lion  hunting  goes  by  luck.  One  man  may  sit 
in  a  boma  night  after  night  without  getting  a  shot, 
while  another  may  go  out  once  and  bring  back  a 
black-mane.  I  spent  two  nights  in  a  boma  without 
seeing  a  lion;  Stephenson  spent  seven  nights  and 
saw  only  a  lioness.  He  held  his  fire  in  the  expecta- 
tion that  the  male  was  with  her  and  would  soon  ap- 
pear. Presently  a  huge  beast  appeared,  vague  in 


334,  IN    AFRICA 

the  dark  shadows ;  he  thought  it  was  the  male  lion, 
shot,  and  the  next  morning  found  a  large  dead 
hyena. 

Mrs.  Akeley  went  out  only  once,  had  a  night  of 
thrilling  experiences,  and  killed  a  large  male  lion. 
The  lion  appeared  early  in  the  evening  and  her  first 
shot  just  grazed  the  backbone.  An  inch  higher  and 
it  would  have  missed,  but  as  it  was,  the  mere  graz- 
ing of  the  backbone  paralyzed  the  animal,  prevent- 
ing its  escape.  All  night  long  it  crouched  help- 
lessly before  them,  twelve  yards  away,  insane  with 
rage  and  fury.  Its  roars  were  terrifying.  A  num- 
ber of  times  she  shot,  but  in  the  darkness  none  of 
the  many  hits  reached  a  vital  spot.  Once  in  the 
night  two  other  lions  came,  but  escaped  after  being 
fired  at. 

As  soon  as  daylight  appeared  and  she  could  see 
the  sights  of  her  rifle  she  easily  killed  the  lion.  It 
was  the  largest  one  of  the  eleven  killed  in  our  hunt- 
ing trip,  and  was  killed  with  a  little  .256  Mann- 
licher,  the  same  weapon  with  which  she  shot  her  rec- 
ord elephant  on  Mount  Kenia. 

In  the  tall-grass  method,  native  beaters  are  sent 
in  long  skirmish  line  through  swamps  and  such 
places  as  lions  like  to  lay  up  in  during  the  hours  of 
daylight.  The  beaters  chant  a  weird  and  rather 
musical  refrain  as  they  advance  and  thrash  the  high 
reeds  with  their  sticks.  Reedbuck,  sometimes  a 
bushbuck,  frequently  hyenas,  and  many  large  owls 
are  driven  out  of  nearly  every  good-sized  swamp. 
The  hunters  divide,  one  or  more  on  each  side  of  the 


The   Tree  Method   of  Lion   Shooting 


Dragged  a  Zebra  to  the  Boma 


The   Rifle  Was   Sighted   on   the    Bait 


METHODS    OF    LION    HUNTING  335 

swamp  and  slightly  ahead  of  the  line  of  beaters. 
As  the  lion  springs  out  it  is  up  to  the  hunter  near- 
est to  it  to  meet  it  with  the  traditional  unerring  shot. 

In  our  experience  we  beat  dozens  of  swamps  and 
reed  beds.  Stephenson  would  take  one  side  of  the 
swamp,  I  the  other,  while  Akeley  with  his  moving- 
picture  machine,  would  take  the  side  best  suited  to 
photographic  purposes.  He  got  some  wonderful 
results,  two  of  which  were  records  of  the  death  of 
two  lionesses. 

Upon  the  first  of  these  occasions  the  beaters  had 
worked  down  a  long  stretch  of  swamp  and  had 
almost  reached  the  end.  Suddenly  they  showed  an 
agitated  interest  in  something  in  front  of  them. 
They  thought  it  was  a  lion  until  an  innocent  by- 
stander made  an  unauthorized  guess  that  it  was  a 
hyena.  This  reassured  the  beaters  and  they  ad- 
vanced boldly  in  the  belief  that  it  was  a  harmless 
hyena.  My  valor  rose  in  proportion  and  for  the 
same  reason,  and  I  strolled  bravely  over  to  the  edge 
of  the  reeds  where  a  little  opening  appeared.  It 
was  something  of  a  shock  to  see  two  lions  stroll  sud- 
denly into  view.  I  fired,  hitting  the  last  one.  Then 
they  both  disappeared  in  the  reeds  ahead. 

It  was  amazing  to  note  the  sudden  epidemic  of 
caution  upon  the  part  of  all  concerned.  The  beaters 
refused  to  advance  until  Stephenson  joined  them 
with  his  big  rifle.  I  moved  forward  on  the  side 
lines  and  the  moving-picture  machine  reeled  off 
yards  of  film. 

A  man  has  to  appear  brave  when  a  camera  is 


336 


IN    AFRICA 


turned  on  him,  but  with  two  lions  a  few  feet  away 
there  was  not  a  tendency  to  advance  with  that  im- 
petuous dash  that  one  would  like  to  see  in  a  moving 
picture  of  oneself.  Anyway,  I  tried  to  keep  up  an 
appearance  of  advancing  without  actually  cover- 
ing much  territory. 

One  of  my  gunbearers  suddenly  clutched  my 
arm  and  pointed  into  the  reeds.    There,  only  a  few 


Photographed  in  Times  of  Danger 

feet  away,  was  the  tawny  figure  of  a  lion,  either 
lying  down  or  crouching.  I  fired  and  nearly  blew 
its  head  off.  It  was  the  one  I  had  wounded  a  few 
minutes  before. 

There  was  still  the  other  lion  in  the  reeds.  So  I 
joined  the  beaters  while  Stephenson  came  out  and 
took  a  commanding  position  at  the  side  of  the  reeds. 
In  a  moment  or  two  there  was  a  tawny  flash  and  the 
lion  was  seen  as  it  broke  from  the  reeds  and  sprang 


METHODS    OF    LION    HUNTING  337 

away  up  the  hill.  It  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
reeds  from  Stephenson,  but  his  first  shot  hit  it  and 
it  stopped  and  turned  angrily.  In  another  instant 
it  would  have  charged,  but  a  second  shot  from  his 
rifle  killed  it  instantly.  Both  of  the  animals  were 
young  lionesses  of  the  same  age  and  nearly  full 
grown. 

Sometimes,  when  a  lion  is  driven  to  bay  in  the 
tall  grass  at  the  end  of  a  swamp,  the  beaters  refuse 
to  advance,  and  it  then  becomes  necessary  for  the 
hunter  to  go  in  and  take  the  lead.  An  occasion  of 
this  sort  was  among  the  most  thrilling  of  my  Afri- 
can experiences. 

An  immense  swamp  had  been  beaten  out  and 
nothing  had  developed  until  the  beaters  were  almost 
at  the  end  of  the  swamp.  Extending  from  the  end 
and  joining  it  was  a  patch  of  wire-like  reeds,  eight 
or  ten  feet  high  and  covering  two  or  three  acres. 
This  high  grass  was  almost  impenetrable  by  a  man, 
and  it  was  only  possible  to  go  through  it  by  throw- 
ing one's  weight  forward  and  crushing  down  the 
dense  growth.  The  grass  grew  from  hummocks, 
between  wiiich  were  deep  water  channels.  An  ani- 
mal could  glide  through  these  channels,  but  a  man 
must  batter  his  way  through  the  stockade  of  dense 
grass  that  spread  out  above. 

It  was  in  this  place  that  the  lion  was  first  heard 
and  the  beaters  refused  to  follow  it  in.  Guttural 
grunts  and  snarls  came  from  that  uninviting  jun- 
gle, and  we  knew  that  the  only  way  to  force  the  lion 
out  was  to  go  in  and  drive  it  out. 


338  IN    AFRICA 

At  about  this  time  another  lion  came  out  of  the 
swamp  behind  and  loped  up  the  hill.  The  saises 
were  sent  galloping  after  it  to  round  it  up,  but  they 
reappeared  after  a  few  moments  and  reported  that 
it  had  got  away  in  the  direction  of  a  huge  swamp 
a  mile  or  so  beyond.  We  began  to  think  we  had 
struck  a  nest  of  lions. 

Then  we  went  in  to  drive  out  that  lion  in  the 
deep  grass.  The  native  beaters,  encouraged  by  see- 
ing armed  white  men  leading  the  way,  came  along 
with  renewed  enthusiasm.  That  grass  was  some- 
thing terrible.  One  would  hardly  care  to  go 
through  it  if  he  knew  that  a  bag  of  gold  or  a  fairy 
princess  awaited  him  beyond ;  with  a  lion  there,  the 
delight  of  the  job  became  immeasurably  less.  We 
could  not  see  three  feet  ahead.  From  time  to  time 
we  were  floundering  down  into  channels  of  water 
hidden  by  the  density  of  the  grass.  Some  of  these 
channels  were  two  feet  deep.  And  with  each  yard 
of  advance  came  the  realization  that  we  were  com- 
ing to  an  inevitable  show-down  with  that  lion. 
Akeley  and  I  were  in  with  the  beaters,  Stephenson 
was  beyond  the  patch  of  grass  to  intercept  the  lion 
should  it  break  forth  from  cover. 

It  was  not  until  we  had  nearly  traversed  the  en- 
tire patch  of  reeds  that  the  lion  was  found.  It  evi- 
dently lay  silently  ahead  of  us  until  we  were  almost 
upon  it.  Then,  almost  beneath  my  feet,  came  the 
angry  and  ominous  growl,  and  my  Somali  gun- 
bearer  leaped  in  terror,  falling  as  he  did  so.  I  ex- 
pected to  see  a  long,  lean  flash  of  yellow  body  and 


METHODS    OF    LION    HUNTING  339 

to  experience  the  sensation  of  being  mauled  by  a 
lion.  All  was  breathlessly  silent  for  a  moment. 
Then  a  shot  from  Stephenson's  rifle  said  that  the 
lion  had  burst  from  the  reeds  and  into  view. 

We  pushed  our  way  out  to  see  what  had  hap- 
pened. 

The  lion  had  come  out,  then  turned  suddenly  back 
into  the  cover  of  reeds,  working  its  way  along  the 
front  of  the  beaters.  For  an  instant  Stephenson  saw 
it  and  fired  into  the  grass  ahead  of  it  without  result. 

The  track  of  the  lion  was  followed,  but  the  ani- 
mal had  succeeded  in  getting  around  the  beaters 
and  back  into  the  swamp.  Fires  were  lighted,  but 
the  reeds  were  too  green  to  burn  except  in  occa- 
sional spots. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  saises,  posted  like  senti- 
nels high  on  the  hills  that  flanked  the  swamp,  saw 
the  lion  again  and  galloped  down  to  head  it  off.  It 
left  the  swamp  and  continued  on  down  the  rush- 
lined  banks  of  a  stream,  zigzagging  its  way  back 
and  forth.  After  a  pursuit  of  a  couple  of  miles  it 
was  cornered  in  a  small  patch  of  reeds.  Further  re- 
treat was  impossible  and  it  knew  that  it  had  to  fight. 

The  moving-picture  machine  was  set  up  on  one 
side  and  I  was  detailed  to  guard  that  side.  If  the 
lion  came  out  it  was  to  be  allowed  to  charge  a  cer- 
tain distance,  within  forty  feet,  before  I  was  to 
fire.  If  it  didn't  charge  at  us,  but  attempted  to  es- 
cape, it  was  to  be  allowed  to  run  across  the  strip  of 
open  ground  in  front  of  the  camera  before  I  was  to 
shoot. 


340  IN    AFRICA 

Stephenson  took  his  place  on  the  other  bank, 
twenty-five  or  thirty  yards  from  the  edge  of  the 
reeds.  Then  the  beaters  were  told  to  advance,  and 
they  moved  forward,  throwing  rocks  and  sticks  into 
the  reeds  ahead  of  them.  The  lion  appeared  on 
Stephenson's  side.  Like  a  flash  it  sprang  out.  He 
fired  and  the  lion  stopped  momentarily  under  the 
impact  of  a  heavy  ball.  Then  it  sprang  a  few  yards 
onward,  when  a  second  shot  laid  it  out.  The  last 
shot  was  fired  at  less  than  twenty  yards. 

The  moving-picture  machine  recorded  the  thrill- 
ing scene  and  there  was  an  hour  of  great  rejoicing 
and  jubilation.  The  animal  was  an  old  lioness  and 
the  first  shot  had  torn  her  lower  jaw  away  and  had 
gone  into  the  shoulder.  It  is  amazing  that  she  was 
not  instantly  killed — but  that's  a  way  lions  have. 
They  never  know  when  to  quit. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ABDULLAH  THE  COOK  AND  SOME  INTERESTING  GAS- 

TRONOMICAL  EXPERIENCES.    THIRTEEN  TRIBES 

REPRESENTED    IN    THE    SAFARI.     ABDl's 

STORY  OF  HIS  UNCLE  AND  THE 

LIONS 

OUR  cook  was  a  dark-complexioned  man  between 
whom  and  the  ace  of  spades  there  was  considerable 
rivalry.  He  was  of  that  deadly  night  shade.  He 
was  the  darkest  spot  on  the  Dark  Continent.  After 
dark  he  blended  in  with  the  night  so  that  you 
couldn't  tell  which  was  cook  and  which  was  night. 

His  name  was  Abdullah,  his  nature  was  mild  and 
gentle,  and  his  skill  in  his  own  particular  sphere  of 
action  was  worthy  of  honorable  mention  by  all  re- 
fined eaters.  He  was  about  fifty  or  sixty  years  of 
age,  five  feet  tall,  with  a  smile  varying  from  four 
to  six  inches  from  tip  to  tip.  It  was  a  smile  that 
came  often,  and  when  really  unfurled  to  its  great- 
est width  it  gave  the  pleasing  effect  of  a  dark  face 
ambushed  behind  a  row  of  white  tombstones. 

When  Abdullah  joined  our  safari  it  was  freely 
predicted  that  he  would  do  well  for  the  first  month 
or  so,  after  which  he  would  fade  away  to  rank 
mediocrity;  but,  strangely  enough,  he  became  bet- 
ter and  better  as  time  went  on,  and  during  our  last 

341 


342  IN    AFRICA 

two  weeks  was  springing  culinary  coups  that  ex- 
cited intense  interest  on  our  part.  He  had  a  way 
of  assembling  a  few  odds  and  ends  together  that 
finally  merged  into  a  rice  pudding  par  excellence, 
while  his  hot  cakes  were  so  good  that  we  spoke  of 
them  in  rapt,  reverential  whispers.  There  wasn't 
a  twinge  of  indigestion  in  a  "three  by  six"  stack  of 
them,  and  when  flooded  with  a  crown  of  liquid 
honey  they  made  one  think  of  paradise  and  angels' 
choruses. 

Quite  naturally,  in  my  wanderings  of  nine 
months  there  were  moments  when  my  thoughts 
dwelt  upon  such  material  things  as  "vittles,"  and 
it  was  instructive  to  compare  the  various  kinds  of 
food  served  on  a  dozen  ships,  a  score  of  hotels,  and 
a  hundred  camps.  Some  were  good  and  some  were 
bad,  but  as  viewed  in  calm  retrospect  I  think  that 
Abdullah  excelled  all  other  chefs,  taking  him  day  in 
and  day  out. 

Upon  only  three  occasions  was  he  vanquished, 
but  these  were  memorable  ones.  As  food  is  a  pleas- 
ant topic,  perhaps  I  may  be  pardoned  if  I  dwell 
fondly  upon  these  three  red-letter  days  in  my  mem- 
ory. 

One  was  in  Paris.  The  night  that  we  started  for 
Africa  a  merry  little  company  dined  at  Henry's. 
That  distinguished  master  was  given  carte  blanche 
to  get  up  the  best  dinner  known  to  culinary  science, 
and  he  had  a  day's  start.  Everything  was  delicious. 
The  dinner  was  a  symphony,  starting  in  a  low  key 
and  gradually  working  up  in  a  stirring  crescendo 


One  of  Our  Askaris 


llfeBftfef 


Hassan  Mohammed 


ABDI    AND    ABDULLAH  343 

until  the  third  course,  where  it  reached  supreme 
heights  in  climacteric  effect.  That  third  course,  if 
done  in  music,  would  have  sent  men  cheering  to  the 
cannon's  mouth  or  galloping  joyously  in  a  desper- 
ate cavalry  charge. 

The  dish  was  called  "poulet  archduc,"  although 
I  should  have  called  it  at  least  poulet  archangel.  In 
this  divine  creation  Henry  reached  the  Nirvana  of 
good  things  to  eat.  I  beseeched  him  for  the  recipe, 
which  he  cheerfully  wrote  out,  so  now  I  am  happy 
to  pass  it  along  that  all  may  try  it.  It  really  ought 
to  be  dramatized. 

I  transcribe  it  in  M.  Henry's  own  verbiage : 

The  chicken  must  be  well  cleaned  inside.  Next 
put  in  it  some  butter,  salt  and  pepper,  a  little  pap- 
rika, and  into  full  of  sweet  corn,  then  close  the 
chicken.  Next  put  it  in  a  saucepan  with  other  more 
sweet  corn,  against  butter,  salt,  pepper,  a  little 
whisky ;  cook  about  half  of  one  hour. 

The  best  sweet  corn  is  the  California  sweet  corn 
in  can. 

The  sauce  is  done  with  white  of  chicken.  Squeeze 
two  yolks  of  eggs  and  butter  like  for  a  sauce 
mousseline  and  finish  it  with  a  little  whisky. 

And  there  you  are. 

The  second  occasion  came  some  months  later. 
We  had  been  on  safari  for  several  weeks  and  had 
returned  to  Nairobi  for  two  or  three  days.  It  was 
the  "psychological  moment"  for  something  new  in 


344  IN    AFRICA 

the  way  of  food.  The  stage  was  all  set  for  it,  and 
it  came  in  the  form  of  a  pudding  that  would  have 
delighted  all  the  gastronomes  and  epicures  of  his- 
tory. We  called  it  the  Newland-Tarlton  pudding, 
because  it  was  the  joint  creation  of  Mrs.  IXTewland 
and  Mrs.  Tarlton.  One  wrote  the  poetry  in  it  and 
the  other  set  it  to  music.  We  ate  it  so  thoroughly 
that  the  plates  looked  as  clean  as  new.  Cuning- 
hame  was  there,  dressed  up  for  the  first  time  in 
months,  and  the  way  that  pudding  disappeared  be- 
hind his  burly  beard  was  suggestive  of  the  magic 
of  Kellar  or  Herrmann. 

The  recipe  of  this  pudding  is  worthy  of  export 
to  the  United  States,  so  here  it  is.  It  really  is  a 
combination  of  two  puddings,  served  together  and 
eaten  at  the  same  time. 

THE  NEWLAND  BANANA  CUSTARD 

Boil  three  large  cupfuls  of  milk.  Mix  a  table- 
spoonful  of  corn  flour  with  a  little  cold  milk  just  to 
make  it  into  a  paste.  Add  four  eggs  well  beaten 
and  mix  together  with  three  tablespoonfuls  of 
sugar.  Put  into  the  boiled  milk  and  stir  until  it 
thickens,  but  don't  let  it  boil.  When  taken  off  add 
one  teaspoonful  of  vanilla  essence.  Cut  up  ten 
bananas  and  put  in  a  dish.  Pour  custard  on  when 
cool. 

PRUNE  SHAPE   (A  LA  TARLTON) 

Stew  one-half  pound  prunes  until  quite  soft.  Re- 


ABDI    AND    ABDULLAH  345 

move  stones  and  cut  prunes  small.  Dissolve  one- 
half  ounce  gelatin  and  add  to  one-quarter  pound 
sugar,  prunes,  and  kernels.  Pour  into  wetted  mold 
to  cool,  first  adding  one-half  glass  of  sherry.  Must 
be  served  with  banana  cream  (the  Newland). 

The  third  occasion  made  memorable  by  a  deli- 
cious epoch-making  dish  I  shall  not  specify,  as  we 
have  dined  with  many  friends  during  the  last  nine 
months.  Let  it  be  sufficient  if  I  say  that  it  was  at 
one  of  these  dinners  or  luncheons. 

In  our  varied  gastronomical  experiences  we 
found  that  the  cooking  on  the  English  ships  was 
usually  bad,  while  that  on  the  German  ships  was 
good,  excepting  the  ship  that  took  us  from  Naples 
to  Mombasa.  The  Dutch  ships  were  the  best  of 
all  and  the  Dutch  hotels  in  Java  were  the  best  we 
struck  outside  of  Paris  and  London.  In  compari- 
son with  the  Hotel  des  Indes,  in  Batavia,  all  the 
rest  of  the  hotels  of  the  Orient  can  be  mentioned 
only  in  a  furtive  way.  It  was  a  revelation  of  excel- 
lence, in  perfect  keeping  with  the  charm  and  beauty 
of  Java  as  a  whole. 

But  we  were  speaking  of  things  to  eat. 

At  the  Hotel  des  Indes  they  served  us  a  modest 
little  dish  called  rice  tafel,  or  "rijs-tafel."  You 
have  to  go  to  luncheon  early  in  order  to  eat  it  be- 
fore dinner  time.  It  was  served  by  twenty-four 
waiters,  marching  in  single  file,  the  line  extending 
from  the  kitchen  to  the  table  and  then  returning  by 


346 


IN    AFRICA 


a  different  line  of  march  to  the  kitchen.  It  was 
fifteen  minutes  passing  a  given  point.  Each  waiter 
carried  a  dish  containing  one  of  the  fifty-seven  in- 
gredients of  the  grand  total  of  the  rice  tafel.  You 
helped  yourself  with  one  arm  until  that  got  tired, 
then  used  the  other.  When  you  were  all  ready  to 
begin  your  plate  looked  like  a  rice-covered  bunker 
on  a  golf  course. 


The  Rice  Tafel  in  Java 


Rice  tafel  is  a  famous  dish  in  Java.  It  is  served 
at  tiffin,  and  after  you  have  eaten  it  you  waddle  to 
your  room  in  a  congested  state  and  sleep  it  off. 
After  my  first  rice  tafel  I  dreamed  I  was  a  log 
jam  and  that  lumber  jacks  with  cant  hooks  were 
trying  to  pry  me  apart. 

As  the  recipe  for  rice  tafel  is  not  to  be  found  in 
any  cook  book  on  account  of  its  length,  we  give  it 
here  even  if  you  won't  believe  it.  To  a  large  heap 
of  rice  add  the  following: 


ABDI    AND    ABDULLAH  347 

MEAT  AND  FISH 

Spiced  beef,  deviled  soup  meat,  both  fried  with 
cocoanut  shreds. 

Minced  pork,  baked. 

Fried  fish,  soused  fish,  and  baked  fish. 

Fried  oysters  and  whitebait. 

SPICES 
Red  fish. 

Deviled  shrimps,  chutney. 
Deviled  pistachio  nuts. 
Deviled  onions  sliced  with  pimentos. 
Deviled  chicken  giblets. 
Deviled  banana  tuft. 
Pickled  cucumbers. 

Cucumber  plain  (to  cool  the  palate  after  hot  in- 
gredients). 

FOWL,  FRUIT,  ETC. 

Roast  chicken,  plain. 
Steamed  chicken  with  chilis. 
Monkey  nuts  fried  in  paste. 
Flour  chips  with  fish  lime   (called  grapak  and 
kripak). 

Fried  brinjals  without  the  seeds. 
Fried  bananas. 

JUICES 

Yellow — (One)  of  curry  powder  with  chicken 
giblets  and  bouillon. 

Brown — (Two)  of  celery,  haricot  beans,  leeks 
and  young  cabbage. 


348 


IN    AFRICA 


One  quart  of  American  pale  ale  to  drink  during 
the  "rice  tafel." 

Our  cook  Abdullah  was  not  the  only  interesting 
type  in  our  safari.  Among  our  dusky  colleagues 
there  were  thirteen  different  tribes  represented. 
It  was  a  congress  of  nations  and  a  babel  of  tongues. 
Some  of  the  porters  became  conspicuous  figures 
early  in  the  march,  while  some  were  so  lacking  in 


The  "Chanteckr"  qf Our  Safari 

individuality  that  they  seemed  like  new-comers 
even  after  four  months  out. 

Of  this  latter  class  Hassan  Mohammed  was  not 
one. 

Hassan  was  my  chief  gunbearer,  and  for  pious 
devotion  to  the  Mohammedan  faith  he  was  second 
to  none.  He  was  the  "Chantecler"  of  our  outfit. 
Every  morning  at  four  o'clock,  regardless  of  the 
weather,  he  would  crawl  out  of  his  tent,  drape  him- 


ABDI    AND    ABDULLAH  349 

self  in  a  white  sheet,  and  cry  out  his  prayers  to 
Mecca.  It  was  his  voice  that  woke  the  camp,  and 
the  immediate  answer  to  his  prayers  was  sometimes 
quite  irreverent,  especially  from  the  Wakamba  por- 
ters, who  were  accustomed  to  sit  up  nearly  all  night 
gambling. 

Hassan  was  a  Somali,  strictly  honest  and  faith- 
ful. He  had  the  Somali's  love  of  a  rupee,  and  there 
was  no  danger  or  hardship  that  he  would  not  under- 
go in  the  hope  of  backsheesh.  It  is  the  African  cus- 
tom to  backsheesh  everybody  when  a  lion  is  killed, 
so  consequently  the  Somalis  were  always  looking 
for  lions.  Perhaps  he  also  prayed  for  them  each 
morning. 

When  we  started  we  had  four  Somali  gunbear- 
ers,  each  of  whom  rose  at  dawn  to  pray.  As  we 
got  up  in  the  high  altitudes,  where  the  mornings 
were  bitter  cold,  the  number  of  suppliants  dwindled 
down  to  one,  and  Hassan  was  the  sole  survivor.  No 
cold  or  rain  or  early  rising  could  cool  the  fierce  re- 
ligious ardor  that  burned  within  him. 

Long  before  daybreak  we  would  hear  his  voice 
raised  in  a  singsong  prayer  full  of  strange  runs 
and  weird  minors.  The  lions  that  roared  and 
grunted  near  the  camp  would  pause  in  wonder  and 
then  steal  away  as  the  sound  of  Hassan's  devotions 
rang  out  through  the  chilly,  dew-laden  dawn.  And 
as  if  fifteen  minutes  of  morning  prayer  was  not 
enough  to  keep  him  even  with  his  religious  obliga- 
tions, he  went  through  two  more  long  recitals  in  the 
afternoon  and  at  night. 


350  IN    AFRICA 

I  sometimes  thought  that  behind  his  fervent  ar- 
dor there  was  a  considerable  pride  in  his  voice,  for 
he  introduced  many  interesting  by-products  of  har- 
mony that  sounded  more  or  less  extraneous  to  both 
music  and  prayer.  Nevertheless,  Hassan  was  con- 
sistent. He  never  lied,  he  never  stole,  and  it  was 
part  of  his  personal  creed  of  honor  to  stand  by  his 
master  in  case  of  danger.  Somali  gunbearers  are  a 
good  deal  of  a  nuisance  about  a  camp,  partly  be- 
cause they  are  the  aristocrats  of  Africa  and  demand 
large  salaries,  but  chiefly  because  they  require  cer- 
tain kinds  of  food  that  their  religion  requires  them 
to  eat.  This  is  often  difficult  to  secure  when  far 
from  sources  of  supplies,  and  in  consequence  the 
equilibrium  of  camp  harmony  is  sorely  disturbed. 

They  are  avaricious  and  money  loving  to  a  de- 
plorable degree,  but  there  is  one  thing  that  can  be 
said  for  the  Somali.  He  will  never  desert  in  time 
of  danger  and  will  cheerfully  sacrifice  himself  for 
his  master.  He  has  the  stamina  of  a  higher  type  of 
civilization,  and  in  comparison  to  him  the  lately  re- 
claimed savage  is  not  nearly  so  dependable  in  a 
crisis. 

I  sometimes  suspected  that  Hassan  was  not  really 
a  gunbearer,  but  was  merely  a  "camel  man"  who  was 
tempted  from  his  flocks  by  the  high  pay  that  Af- 
rican gunbearers  receive.  Notwithstanding  this,  he 
was  courageous,  faithful,  willing,  honest,  good  at 
skinning,  and  personally  an  agreeable  companion 
during  the  months  that  we  were  together.  I  got  to 


• 


Jumma,    the    Tent    Boy 


Abdullah,   the   Cook 


ABDI    AND    ABDULLAH  351 

like  him  and  often  during  our  rests  after  long  hours 
afield  we  would  talk  of  our  travels  and  adventures. 

One  day  we  stopped  at  the  edge  of  the  Molo 
River.  A  little  bridge  crossed  the  stream  and  I  re- 
membered that  the  equator  is  supposed  to  pass  di- 
rectly across  the  middle  of  this  bridge.  It  struck 
me  as  being  quite  noteworthy,  so  I  tried  to  tell 
Hassan  all  about  it.  I  was  hampered  somewhat  be- 
cause he  didn't  know  that  the  world  was  round,  but 
after  some  time  I  got  him  to  agree  to  that  fact. 
Then  by  many  illustrations  I  endeavored  to  de- 
scribe the  equator  and  told  him  it  crossed  the  bridge. 
He  got  up  and  looked,  but  seemed  unconvinced  as 
well  as  unimpressed.  Then  I  told  him  that  it  was 
an  imaginary  line  that  ran  around  the  world  right 
where  it  was  fullest — half  way  between  the  north 
pole  and  the  south  pole.  He  brightened  up  at  this 
and  hastened  to  tell  me  that  he  had  heard  of  the 
north  pole  from  a  man  on  a  French  ship.  As  I  per- 
severed in  my  geographical  lecture  he  gradually 
became  detached  from  my  point  of  view,  and  when 
we  finished  I  was  talking  equator  and  he  was  talk- 
ing about  a  friend  of  his  who  had  once  been  to  Rot- 
terdam. 

The  lecture  was  a  "draw."  But  I  noticed  with 
satisfaction  that  when  we  walked  across  the  bridge 
he  looked  furtively  between  each  crack  as  if  ex- 
pecting to  see  something. 

It  was  rather  a  curious  thing,  speaking  of  Has- 
san, to  observe  the  respect  with  which  the  other  na- 


352  IN    AFRICA 

tives  treated  his  daily  religious  devotions.  He  was 
the  only  one  in  camp  who  prayed — at  least  openly 
— and  as  he  knelt  and  bowed  and  went  through  the 
customary  form  of  a  Mohammedan  prayer  there 
was  never  the  slightest  disposition  to  make  fun  of 
him.  In  a  camp  of  one  hundred  white  men  I  feel 
sure  that  one  of  them  who  prayed  aloud  three  times 
a  day  would  hardly  have  escaped  a  good  deal  of  ir- 
reverent ridicule  from  those  about  him.  The  natives 
in  our  camp  never  dreamed  of  questioning  Hassan's 
right  to  worship  in  any  way  he  pleased  and  the  life 
and  activities  of  the  camp  flowed  along  smoothly  as 
if  unconscious  of  the  white-robed  figure  whose  voice 
sang  out  his  praises  of  Allah.  The  whole  camp 
seemed  to  have  a  deep  respect  for  Hassan. 

Abdi,  our  head-man,  was  also  a  Somali,  but  of  a 
different  tribe.  He  was  from  Jubaland  and  had 
lived  many  years  with  white  men.  In  all  save  color 
he  was  more  white  than  black.  He  was  handsome, 
good-tempered,  efficient,  and  so  kind  to  his  men  that 
sometimes  the  discipline  of  the  camp  suffered  be- 
cause of  it.  It  was  Abdi's  duty  to  direct  the  por- 
ters in  their  work  of  moving  camp,  distributing 
loads,  pitching  camp,  getting  wood  for  the  big 
camp-fires,  punishing  delinquents  and,  in  fact,  to 
see  that  the  work  of  the  safari  was  done. 

One  night  after  we  had  been  most  successful  in 
a  big  lion  hunt  during  the  day  Abdi  came  to  the 
mess  tent,  where  we  were  lingering  over  a  particu- 
larly good  dinner.  Abdi  asked  for  his  orders  for  the 
following  day  and  then,  seeing  that  we  were  in  a 


ABDI    AND    ABDULLAH  35S 

talkative  mood,  he  stopped  a  while  to  join  in  the 
stories  of  lion  hunting. 

After  a  time  he  told  two  of  his  own  that  he 
had  brought  from  his  boyhood  home  in  Jubaland. 
They  were  so  remarkable  that  you  don't  have  to  be- 
lieve them  unless  you  want  to. 


Abdi's  Uncle  and  the  Man-Eaters 
ABDl's  STORY  ABOUT  HIS  UNCLE  AND  THE  LIONS 

"Once  upon  a  time  my  uncle,  who  was  a  great 
runner,  encountered  six  man-eating  lions  sitting  in 
the  road.  He  took  his  spear  and  tried  to  kill  them, 
but  they  divided,  three  on  each  side  of  the  road.  So 
he  took  to  his  heels.  To  the  next  town  it  was  twelve 
hours'  march,  but  he  ran  it  in  ten  hours,  the  lions  in 
hot  pursuit  every  minute  of  the  time.  When  he 
reached  the  town  he  jumped  over  the  thorn  bush 
zareba,  and  the  lions,  close  behind  him,  jumped  over 
after  him  and  were  killed  by  his  spear,  one  after 
the  other." 


354  IN    AFRICA 

ABDl's  STORY  ABOUT  THE  WILY  SOMALI  AND  THE 
UON 

"Once  upon  a  time  there  was  a  Somali  who  was 
warned  not  to  go  down  a  certain  road  on  account 
of  the  man-eating  lions.  But  he  started  out,  armed 
with  knife  and  spear.  For  a  week  he  marched, 
sleeping  in  the  trees  at  night  and  marching  during 
the  day.  One  day  he  suddenly  came  upon  a  big  lion 


He  Hastily  Cut  a  Stick 

sitting  in  the  road.  He  stopped,  sharpening  a  little 
stick  which  he  held  in  his  left  hand.  Then  he 
wrapped  his  'tobe'  or  blanket  around  his  left  hand 
and  arm.  He  then  advanced  to  the  lion  and  when  it 
opened  its  mouth  to  bite  him  he  thrust  the  sharp 
stick  inside,  up  and  down,  thus  gagging  the  lion. 
Then  with  his  two  hands  he  held  the  lion  by  its  ears 
for  three  days.  He  couldn't  let  go  because  the  lion 
would  maul  him  with  its  heavy  paws.  He  was  thus 
in  quite  a  fix. 

"Finally  another   Somali   came   along   and  he 


ABDI    AND    ABDULLAH  355 

asked  the  new-comer  to  hold  the  lion  while  he  killed 
it  with  his  spear.  The  other  Somali  consented  and 
seized  the  lion  by  the  ears.  Then  the  first  Somali 
laughed  long  and  loud  and  said,  'I've  held  him 
three  days,  now  you  hold  him  three  days.'  Then  he 
strolled  down  the  road  and  disappeared.  For  seven 
days  the  second  Somali  held  the  lion  and  then  by 
the  same  subterfuge  turned  it  over  to  a  third 
Somali.  By  this  time  the  lion  was  pretty  tired,  so 
after  one  day  the  Somali  shook  the  lion  hard  and 
then  took  out  his  knife  and  stabbed  it  to  death." 

Sulimani  was  my  second  gunbearer.  His  name 
wasn't  Sulimani,  but  some  one  gave  him  that  name 
because  his  own  Kikuyu  name  was  too  hard  to  pro- 
nounce and  impossible  to  remember.  Sulimani  was 
quite  a  study.  He  had  the  savage's  love  of  snuff, 
and  when  not  eating  or  sleeping  he  was  taking 
pinches  of  that  narcotic  from  an  old  kodak  tin.  In 
consequence  he  had  the  chronic  appearance  of  being 
full  of  dope.  He  walked  along  as  though  in  a 
trance.  He  never  seemed  to  be  looking  anywhere 
except  at  the  stretch  of  trail  directly  in  front  of 
him.  His  thoughts  were  far  away,  or  else  there 
were  no  thoughts  at  all.  I  often  watched  him  and 
wondered  what  he  was  thinking  about. 

Sulimani  was  really  one  of  the  best  natural  hunt- 
ers in  the  whole  safari.  He  had  a  native  instinct 
for  tracking  that  was  wonderful;  he  had  courage 
that  was  fatalistic,  and  he  seemed  to  know  what  an 
animal  would  do  and  where  it  would  go  under 


356  IN    AFRICA 

certain  conditions.  Beneath  that  dopy  somnolence 
of  manner  his  senses  were  alert  and  his  eyes  were 
usually  the  first  to  see  distant  game. 

He  had  originally  been  a  porter  when  we  started 
out,  but  I  gave  him  a  new  suit  of  khaki  and  pro- 
moted him  to  the  position  of  second  gunbearer.  As 
long  as  we  were  in  touch  with  civilization  he  kept 
that  khaki  suit  in  a  condition  of  spotlessness,  but 
when  we  got  out  in  the  wilds,  away  from  the  girls, 
it  soon  became  stiff  with  blood-stains  and  dirt.  The 
natural  savage  instinct  became  predominant ;  he  re- 
verted to  type. 

His  jaunty  red  fez  was  replaced  by  a  headgear 
made  of  the  beautiful  skin  of  a  Uganda  cob.  Os- 
trich and  maribou  feathers  stuck  out  from  the  top, 
while  upon  his  feet  were  sandals  made  from  the 
thick  skin  of  a  waterbuck.  A  zebra  tail  was  fash- 
ioned into  a  sheath  for  his  skinning-knife,  so  that, 
little  by  little,  he  resolved  himself  back  into  a  con- 
dition of  savage  splendor.  He  usually  did  most  of 
my  skinning,  and  that  being  dirty  work,  I  was  dis- 
posed to  be  tolerant  with  the  disgraceful  condition 
of  his  khaki  suit. 

Finally  we  approached  civilization  once  more, 
and  I  told  Sulimani  that  he'd  have  to  clean  up, 
otherwise  the  girls  wouldn't  like  him.  I  gave  him 
half  a  day  off  to  wash  his  clothes,  and  he  dutifully 
disappeared  from  society  for  that  period.  When 
he  once  more  turned  up  he  was  resplendent  in  his 
clean  clothes.  As  we  marched  along  toward  Nai- 
robi he  broke  his  long  silence  by  bursting  into  song. 


ABDI    AND    ABDULLAH  357 

For  a  day  or  two  it  was  the  wonder  of  the  camp, 
but  he  was  quite  unconscious  of  it.  Music  was  in 
his  soul  and  the  germ  of  love  was  churning  it  up. 
And  so  he  sang  as  he  marched  along,  and  his 
thoughts  were  racing  ahead  of  him  to  the  "sing 
sing"  girls  who  wait  in  Nairobi  for  returning  por- 
ters with  rupees  to  spend. 

The  general  average  of  health  in  the  safari  was 
high.  Only  one  porter  died  in  the  four  months  or 
more  that  we  were  out.  But  in  spite  of  the  low  mor- 
tality there  were  many  cases  that  came  up  for  treat- 
ment. Akeley,  with  his  long  experience  as  a  hunter 
and  explorer,  acted  as  the  health  department  of  the 
camp.  His  three  or  four  remedies  for  all  ills  were 
quinine,  calomel,  witch-hazel,  and  zinc  oxide  ad- 
hesive plaster.  And  it  was  simply  amazing  what 
those  four  things  could  do  when  applied  to  the 
naturally  healthy  constitutions  of  the  blacks.  He 
cured  a  bowed  tendon  with  witch-hazel  and  adhesive 
plaster  in  three  or  four  days.  A  white  man  would 
have  gone  to  a  hospital  for  weeks. 

There  were  two  common  complaints.  One  was 
fever,  but  the  fiercest  fever  took  to  its  heels  when 
charged  by  General  Quinine  and  General  Calomel. 
The  other  and  more  common  complaint  rose  from 
abrasions  and  cuts.  There  was  always  a  string  of 
porters  lined  up  for  treatment  and  each  went  away 
happy  with  large  pieces  of  adhesive  plaster  decorat- 
ing his  ebony  skin.  A  simple  piece  of  this  plaster 
cured  the  worst  and  most  inflamed  cut,  and  it  was 
seldom  that  a  man  came  back  for  a  second  treat- 


358  IN    AFRICA 

ment.  The  plaster  remained  on  until,  weeks  after- 
ward, it  fell  off  from  sheer  weariness. 

And  once  in  a  while  there  would  be  knife  wounds, 
for  whenever  we  killed  a  zebra  as  meat  for  the 
porters  there  would  be  a  frenzied  fight  over  the 
body.  Each  man,  with  knife  out,  was  fighting  for 
the  choice  pieces.  It  was  like  a  scrimmage  of  human 
vultures — fighting,  clawing,  slashing  and  rending, 
with  blood  and  meat  flying  about  in  a  horrifying 
manner.  I  used  to  marvel  that  many  were  not 
killed,  because  each  one  was  armed  with  a  knife 
and  each  one  was  frenzied  with  savage  greed. 
However,  only  once  in  a  while  did  we  have  to  treat 
the  injured  from  this  cause.  Two  men  could  fight 
for  ten  minutes  over  a  piece  of  meat  or  a  bone,  but 
when  finally  the  ownership  was  settled  the  victor 
could  toss  his  meat  to  the  ground  with  the  certainty 
that  no  one  else  would  take  it. 

Jumma  was  my  tent  boy — a  Wakamba  with  filed 
teeth.  Jumma  is  the  Swahili  word  for  Friday  and 
is  about  as  common  a  name  in  East  Africa  as  John 
is  in  white  communities.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  call 
him  "my  man  Friday,"  but  he  was  so  dignified  that 
no  one  would  dream  of  taking  such  a  liberty  with 
him.  Jumma's  thoughts  ran  to  clothes.  He  wore 
a  neat  khaki  suit — blouse  and  "shorts,"  a  pair  of 
blue  puttees,  a  pair  of  stout  shoes,  and  a  dazzling 
red  fez,  from  which  sprang  a  long  waving  ostrich 
feather.  My  key  ring  hung  at  his  belt,  while  around 
his  wrist  a  neat  watch  was  fastened.  The  longest 
march,  through  mud  and  rain  and  wind  and  sun, 


; 


Sulimani — Second   Gunbearer 


The  Mess  Tent 


Where  the  Equator  Crosses  the  Molo 


ABDI    AND    ABDULLAH  359 

would  find  him  as  trim  and  clean  at  the  finish  as 
though  he  had  just  stepped  out  of  a  bandbox. 
Jumma  had  the  happy  faculty  of  never  looking 
rumpled,  a  trick  which  I  tried  hard  to  learn,  but 
all  in  vain.  He  was  as  black  as  ebony,  yet  his  fea- 
tures were  like  those  of  a  Caucasian;  in  fact,  he 
strikingly  resembled  an  old  Chicago  friend. 

Among  our  porters  there  were  many  types  of 
features,  and  in  a  curious  way  many  of  them  resem- 
bled people  we  had  known  at  home.  One  porter 
had  the  eyes  and  expression  of  a  young  north-side 
girl ;  another  had  the  walk  and  features  of  a  prom- 
inent young  Chicago  man ;  and  so  on. 

Saa  Sitaa  was  one  of  our  brightest  porters.  His 
name  means  "Six  O'clock"  in  Swahili,  six  o'clock 
in  the  native  reckoning  being  our  noon  and  our  mid- 
night. Just  why  he  was  given  this  significant  name 
I  never  discovered.  Perhaps  he  was  born  at  that 
hour.  It  always  used  to  amuse  me  to  hear  Abdi 
calling  out,  "Enjani  liapa,  Saa  Sitaa" — "Come 
here,  Six  O'clock." 

Baa  Baa  was  a  porter  who  always  used  to  sing  a 
queer  native  chant  in  which  those  words  were  pre- 
dominant. He  would  sing  it  by  the  hour  while  on 
the  march,  and  before  long  his  real  name  was  re- 
placed by  the  new  one.  Henceforth  he  will,  no 
doubt,  continue  to  be  Baa  Baa.  He  was  promoted 
from  porter  to  camera-bearer,  but  one  day  he  could 
not  be  found  when  most  needed,  and  he  was  reduced 
back  to  the  ranks.  I  never  heard  him  sing  again. 
His  heart  was  broken. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

BACK  HOME   FROM   AFRICA.     NINETY   DAYS   ON   THE 
WAY   THROUGH    INDIA,    JAVA,    CHINA,    MANILA 
AND  JAPAN.    THREE  CHOW  DOGS  AND  A  FI- 
NAL SERIES  OF  AMUSING  ADVENTURES 

AT  last  the  day  came  for  us  to  say  good-by  to  the 
happy  hunting  grounds  and  return  to  the  perils  and 
dangers  of  civilization.  Occasional  newspapers  had 
filtered  into  the  wild  places  and  in  the  peaceful 
security  of  our  tents  we  had  read  of  frightful  min- 
ing disasters  in  America,  of  unparalleled  floods  in 
France,  of  the  clash  and  jangle  of  rival  polar  ex- 
plorers, of  disasters  at  sea,  of  rioting  and  lynching 
in  Illinois.  Automobile  accidents  were  chronicled 
with  staggering  frequency,  and  there  were  mur- 
murs of  impending  rebellions  in  India,  political 
crises  in  England,  feverish  war  talk  in  Germany, 
volcanic  threats  from  Mount  Etna,  and  a  bewilder- 
ing lot  of  other  dreadful  things. 

In  contrast  to  this  dire  picture  of  life  in  civilized 
places,  our  pleasant  days  among  the  lions  and  wild 
beasts;  of  Africa  seemed  curiously  peaceful  and 
orderly.  Now  we  were  to  leave — to  go  back  into 
the  maelstrom  of  the  busy  places  and  bid  farewell 
to  our  friendly  savages  and  genial  camp-fires.  The 

360 


Just  Before  Saying  Good-by  to  My  Horse 


Manila  Bay 


The  Boro  Boedoer  Ruins 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  S6l 

Akeleys  were  remaining  some  months  longer,  but 
Stephenson  and  I  were  scheduled  to  leave. 

There  were  a  few  busy  days  in  Nairobi.  The 
Horses  were  sold,  the  porters  were  paid  off,  the 
trophies  were  prepared  for  shipment,  and  our  camp 
outfits  and  guns  were  either  sold  or  packed  for  their 
journey  homeward.  There  were  affectionate  and 
rather  tearful  partings  from  good  friends,  then 
a  quick  railway  trip  to  the  coast  and  a  day  or  two  of 
waiting  in  Mombasa.  The  hunting  was  over.  Now 
it  was  a  mere  matter  of  getting  home  in  ninety 
days,  and  for  variety's  sake  we  elected  to  go  home 
through  India,  Java,  China,  and  Japan.  I  was 
curious  to  note  the  changes  that  those  countries  had 
undergone  since  I  had  last  seen  them  years  before. 

We  had  some  mild  adventures.  The  first  oc- 
curred in  Mombasa,  and  concerns  the  strange  con- 
duct of  two  little  white  dogs  that  flashed  in  and  out 
of  our  lives. 

One  day  when  I  returned  to  my  room  in  the  hotel 
at  Mombasa  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  two  small 
dogs  had  established  themselves  therein.  The  room 
boy  knew  nothing  about  them;  the  people  around 
the  hotel  did  not  remember  having  ever  seen  them 
before.  No  clue  to  their  owner  was  obtainable, 
and  we  regarded  their  advent  as  something  of  a 
mild  kind  of  miracle.  They  played  about  the  room 
as  if  they  had  long  been  there.  When  we  went  out 
they  were  at  our  heels  and  in  the  course  of  our 
wanderings  through  the  old  streets  of  the  town 
the  two  dogs  were  always  close  at  hand,  or,  rather, 


362 


IN    AFRICA 


close  at  feet.  When  I  worked  in  the  room  at  the 
hotel  they  lay  on  the  floor  or  played  near  my  table 
and  made  no  effort  to  rush  away  to  the  many  temp- 
tations of  the  warm  sunshine  outside.  I  became 
much  attached  to  them.  Such  steadfast  devotion 
from  strange  dogs  is  always  flattering. 

Then  our  ship,  the  Umzuiribi>  South  Africa  to 
Bombay,  came  into  the  harbor  and  anchored  a  quar- 


The  Two  Dogs  of  Mombasa 

ter  of  a  mile  out  from  the  custom-house  dock.  We 
decided  to  go  out  and  visit  her  and  accordingly  shut 
the  door  to  prevent  the  two  little  dogs  from  join- 
ing us.  Before  we  reached  the  dock  they  were 
with  us,  however,  having  escaped  some  way  or 
other.  And  when  we  got  into  the  rowboat  to  go  out 
they  looked  appealingly  after  us  from  the  dripping 
steps  of  the  boat  landing.  We  were  sorry,  but 
really  we  couldn't  take  them  to  the  ship. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  splash,  and  one  of  the  little 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  363 

dogs  was  bravely  swimming  after  us.  He  wasn't 
built  for  swimming,  but  he  was  making  a  gallant 
effort.  We  stopped  and  picked  him  up,  a  drippy 
but  grateful  little  creature.  Then  we  had  to  row 
back  to  get  the  other  one.  By  much  strategy  we 
succeeded  in  getting  on  board  the  Umzumbi  with- 
out taking  them  with  us,  but  as  we  were  not  sailing 
until  the  afternoon  we  stayed  on  board  only  long 
enough  to  see  that  our  state-room  arrangements 
were  satisfactory  and  to  meet  the  chief  steward. 

On  our  way  back  through  the  town  the  dogs  got 
lost  from  us,  but  when  we  reached  the  room  at  the 
hotel  they  were  comfortably  installed  in  the  square 
of  sunshine  that  streamed  through  the  window. 
They  refused  to  break  home  ties.  Several  more 
times  that  day  we  executed  elaborate  manceuvers  to 
lose  them  without  the  painful  formality  of  saying 
good-by.  But  all  in  vain.  We  tried  to  give  them 
away  and  finally  succeeded  in  persuading  one 
woman  from  up  Uganda  way  that  they  would  be 
useful  to  her. 

She  was  considering  the  matter  when  we,  f  eeling 
like  heartless  criminals,  stole  away  from  the  room, 
leaving  it  locked,  and  leaving  two  trustful  and 
trusting  little  dogs  incarcerated  within.  We  told 
the  proprietor  of  our  dastardly  conduct,  but  cau- 
tioned him  not  to  liberate  the  captives  until  the 
steamer  was  hull  down  on  the  horizon.  So  by  this 
time  I  suppose  there  are  two  little  white  dogs 
searching  Mombasa  for  two  missing  Americans  and 
wondering  at  the  duplicity  of  human  nature. 


364  IN    AFRICA 

We  imagined  that  the  ship  from  Mombasa  to 
Bombay  would  be  nearly  uninhabited  by  passen- 
gers. Few  people  are  supposed  to  cross  that  part 
of  the  Indian  Ocean.  Bift  when  we  embarked  on 
the  Umzumbi  on  February  first  we  found  the  ship 
full.  There  were  British  army  officers  bound  for 
India,  rich  Parsees  bound  from  Zanzibar  to  Bom- 
bay, two  elderly  American  churchmen  bound  from 
the  missionary  fields  of  Rhodesia  to  inspect  the  mis- 
sionary fields  of  India ;  two  or  three  traveling  men, 
a  South  African  legislator  bound  for  India  on  rec- 
reation bent,  and  a  few  others. 

After  leaving  Mombasa  our  travels  were  upon 
crowded  ships,  on  crowded  trains,  and  from  one 
crowded  hotel  to  another  crowded  hotel.  It  seemed 
as  if  the  whole  world  had  suddenly  decided  to  see 
the  rest  of  the  world. 

Bombay  was  crowded  and  we  barely  succeeded 
in  getting  rooms  at  the  Taj  Mahal.  There  were 
swarms  of  Americans  outward  bound  and  inward 
bound.  You  couldn't  go  down  a  street  without  en- 
countering scores  of  new  sun  hats  and  red-bound 
"Murrays."  The  taxicabs  were  full  of  eager  faces 
peering  out  inquiringly  at  the  monuments  and 
points  of  interest  that  flashed  past. 

The  train  to  Agra  was  crowded  and  we  succeeded 
in  getting  reservations  only  by  the  skin  of  our  teeth. 
Also  the  hotels  at  Agra  were  jammed  and  many 
people  were  being  turned  away,  while  the  procession 
of  carriages  jogging  out  toward  the  Taj  Mahal  was 
like  an  endless  ehain.  Upon  all  sides  as  you  paused 


365 

in  spellbound  rapture  before  the  most  beautiful 
building  in  the  world,  you  heard  the  voice  of  the 
tourist  explaining  the  beauties  of  the  structure. 


During  the  Tourist  Rush 

The  Taj  Mahal  is  justly  called  the  most  beauti- 
ful edifice  in  the  world.  It  is  so  exquisite  in  its  ar- 
chitecture and  its  ornamentation  that  one  may  be- 
lieve the  story  that  it  was  designed  by  a  poet  and 


366  IN    AFRICA 

constructed  by  a  jeweler.  It  was  built  by  Shah  Je- 
han  as  a  memorial  to  his  wife  and  for  centuries  it 
has  stood  as  a  token  of  his  great  love  for  her. 

When  I  visited  it  this  year  I  was  surprised  to  find 
that  Lord  Curzon  had  placed  within  the  great  mar- 
ble dome  a  hanging  lamp  as  a  memorial  to  his  own 
wife.  It  seemed  like  a  shocking  piece  of  presump- 
tion— much  as  if  the  president  of  France  should 
hang  a  memorial  to  one  of  his  own  family  over  the 
sarcophagus  of  Napoleon,  or  a  president  of  the 
United  States  should  do  the  same  at  Washington's 
tomb  at  Mount  Vernon.  It  seemed  like  an  inex- 
pensive way  of  diverting  the  most  beautiful  struc- 
ture of  the  world  to  personal  uses. 

And  yet  later  I  was  compelled  to  modify  this 
opinion  when  I  saw  how  much  excellent  work  Lord 
Curzon  did  toward  restoring  the  old  palaces  of 
Agra  and  preserving  them  for  future  generations. 
As  a  reward  for  this  work,  perhaps,  there  may  have 
been  some  justification  in  placing  a  memorial  lamp 
in  the  dome  of  the  Taj,  especially  as  the  lamp  is 
exquisite  in  workmanship  and  adds  rather  than  de- 
tracts from  the  stately  beauty  of  the  interior.  But 
just  the  same  the  first  verdict  of  the  spectator  is 
that  Lord  Curzon  displayed  a  colossal  egotism  in 
so  doing. 

The  tourist's  beaten  track  in  India  was  as 
thronged  with  American  sightseers  as  the  chateau 
country  in  France.  Lucknow  was  crowded,  Ben- 
ares was  crowded,  Calcutta  was  crowded,  and  the 
trains  that  ran  in  all  directions  were  crowded.  A 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  S67 

traveler  wore  a  look  of  perpetual  anxiety  lest  he 
should  fail  to  get  hotel  or  railway  accommodations. 
The  India  of  one's  imagination — the  somber  land 
of  mystery,  of  untold  riches,  of  eastern  enchant- 
ment, of  far-away  romance — was  gone,  buried  un- 
der picture  post-cards,  hustling  tourists,  and  all  the 
commonplaces  of  a  popular  tourist  track.  It  was 
distinctly  disappointing  from  one  point  of  view, 
and  yet,  I  suppose,  one  should  rejoice  that  his  fel- 
low countrymen  have  cash  and  energy  enough  to 


Tourists  in  India 

travel  in  distant  places,  even  though  they  destroy 
the  romantic  charm  of  those  places  by  so  doing. 

The  rush  of  Americans  through  India  was  as 
brisk  as  was  the  rush  of  Americans  through  Eu- 
rope ten  years  ago.  Age  was  no  handicap.  There 
were  old  couples,  sixty,  seventy,  and  eighty  years 
old,  jogging  along  as  eagerly  and  excitedly  as 
young  bridal  couples.  The  conversation  one  en- 
countered was  always  pretty  much  the  same — how 
such  a  train  was  crowded,  how  accommodations 
could  not  be  secured  at  such  a  hotel,  how  poor  the 
hotels  were,  and  how  long  they  would  have  to  wait 
to  get  a  berth  on  some  outgoing  ship.  There  were 


368  IN    AFRICA 

many  people  hung  up  in  Bombay  and  Calcutta 
vainly  trying  to  get  away,  but  the  boats  were 
booked  full  for  two  or  more  voyages  ahead. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  Indian  travel  has  been 
the  fact  that  most  tourists  plan  to  be  in  India  dur- 
ing December,  January  and  February.  Hence  they 
arrive  in  bunches,  and  try  to  get  away  in  a  bunch, 
which  is  impossible  owing  to  the  limited  capacity  of 
the  steamships.  This  year  the  swarms  of  tourists 
have  been  so  great  that  many  of  them  could  not  get 
out  of  the  country  until  late  in  March  and  along  in 
April. 

The  Americans  have  become  the  great  travelers 
of  the  world.  In  India  there  are  two  American 
tourists  for  one  of  all  other  nationalities.  The  ho- 
tel registers  bristle  with  U.  S.  A.  addresses  and  the 
shops  and  hotels  regard  the  American  trade  as  be- 
ing the  most  profitable.  One  desirable  result  of  the 
American  tendency  to  fare  afield  has  been  the 
steady  improvement  in  hotel  and  railway  accommo- 
dations in  the  Far  East. 

[We  said  good-by  to  India  without  much  regret; 
in  fact,  we  were  elated  to  secure  accommodations  on 
a  small  Indo-China  boat  that  made  the  run  to 
Penang  and  Singapore  in  about  eight  days.  No 
berths  could  be  secured  on  the  ships  that  go  by  the 
way  of  Burma.  Those  ships  were  booked  full  for 
several  trips  ahead.  So  we  settled  down  comfort- 
ably on  the  good  ship  Lai  Sang  and  droned  lazily 
down  through  the  Bay  of  Bengal.  There  were  ac- 
commodations for  only  twelve  first-class  passen- 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  369 

gers,  and  there  were  only  six  on  board.  We  had 
elbow  room  for  the  first  time  since  leaving  Africa. 

When  we  stopped  at  Penang  there  were  two  dis- 
tinct sensations.  One  was  that  Georgetown,  the 
capital  of  the  Island  of  Penang,  is  the  prettiest 
tropical  city  I  have  ever  seen ;  and  the  other  was  the 
first  shock  of  the  rubber  craze.  From  that  time  on 
we  were  constantly  in  a  seething  roar  of  rubber  talk ; 
everybody  was  buying  rubber  shares  and  everybody 
else  was  talking  about  starting  rubber  plantations. 
The  fever  was  epidemic.  Planters  were  destroying 
profitable  cocoanut  groves  in  order  to  replace  them 
with  rubber  trees.  Nearly  every  local  resident  was 
putting  his  last  cent  in  rubber  shares  and  the  tales 
of  suddenly  increased  wealth  inflamed  the  imagina- 
tions and  cupidity  of  every  one  who  heard  them.  I 
mentally  jotted  down  the  names  of  one  or  two  com- 
panies that  are  going  to  declare  enormous  dividends 
soon,  but  that's  as  far  as  I've  got  in  my  rubber  in- 
vestments. 

Penang,  like  Hongkong,  is  an  island.  The  city 
on  the  island  is  Georgetown,  while  the  city  on 
Hongkong  is  Victoria ;  but  you  will  never  hear  any 
one  speak  of  Georgetown  or  Victoria.  It  is  just 
Penang  and  Hongkong,  and  the  other  names  are 
useless  incumbrances. 

Singapore  was  crowded  with  Americans  fighting 
for  accommodations  on  the  China  and  Japan  steam- 
ers ;  other  Americans  fighting  to  get  reservations  on 
the  Java  steamers;  still  other  Americans  who,  in 
despair,  were  going  to  Hongkong  by  way  of  Bor- 


370 


IN    AFRICA 


neo  and  the  Philippines.  They  were  willing  to  go 
first,  second  or  third  class — any  way  at  all  to  get  on 
a  ship. 

The  Singapore  hotels  were  crowded  and  we  got 
the  last  room  in  the  Raffles  Hotel.  The  great  and 
stately  veranda,  which  serves  the  double  purpose  of 


At  Raffles'  Hotel 

a  bar  and  an  out-of-door  reception-room,  was  usu- 
ally crowded.  That  veranda  is  the  redeeming  fea- 
ture of  Raffles  Hotel.  In  other  respects  this  great 
hotel,  situated  at  the  cross-roads  where  East  and 
West  and  North  and  South  meet,  is  not  up  to  what 
a  good  hotel  should  be. 

We  got  the  last  state-room  on  a  steamer  to  Java, 
and  to  our  great  surprise  we  found  the  ship  to  be 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  371 

the  nicest  we  had  traveled  on,  and  the  cooking  to 
rival  that  of  the  great  restaurants  of  Paris. 

Cholera  was  rampant  in  certain  parts  of  Java, 
but  that  didn't  stop  the  sightseers.  Nothing  less 
than  an  earthquake  or  a  lost  letter  of  credit  could 
have  stopped  them. 

Our  adventures  in  Java  were  a  repetition  of 
"crowds."  The  Hotel  des  Indes  in  Batavia  was 
crowded  and  we  got  the  last  room.  The  railways 
were  crowded,  but  not  so  much  as  the  ones  in  India, 
and  the  carriages  are  most  comfortable. 

For  a  week  we  did  volcanoes  and  gorgeous  scen- 
ery, and  realized  what  a  delightful  place  Java  is. 
It  is  even  nicer  than  Japan,  and  the  hotels  are  the 
best  in  the  East. 

My  chief  purpose  in  going  to  Java  was  to  get  a 
Javanese  waterwheel.  They  had  one  at  the  world's 
fair  in  Chicago,  and  I  have  remembered  it  ever  since 
as  one  of  the  most  musical  things  I  have  ever  heard. 
A  friend  of  mine  wanted  me  to  get  him  one  and  I 
volunteered  to  do  so.  I  supposed  that  we  would  hear 
waterwheels  just  as  soon  as  we  got  off  the  ship. 
But  I  was  evidently  mistaken. 

Nobody  in  Java,  so  far  as  I  could  discover,  had 
ever  seen  or  heard  of  a  Javanese  waterwheel.  I  in- 
quired of  dozens  of  people — people  who  had  lived 
there  all  their  lives — but  they  looked  blank  when  I 
spoke  of  waterwheels.  I  drew  pictures  of  it,  but 
that  didn't  enlighten  them. 

Finally  in  despair,  after  a  week  of  vain  search- 
ing, I  drew  the  plans  for  a  waterwheel  and  had  it 


372 


IN    AFRICA 


made.  And  I  am  taking  it  home  with  me,  hoping 
that  it  may  make  music.  Next  year,  owing  to  the 
demand  I  created  for  waterwheels,  I  suppose  the 


Java  in  a  State  of  High  Cultivation 

Javanese  will  start  making  them  for  the  tourist 
trade. 

Just  as  Russia  is  the  land  of  "nitchevo,"  Spain 
the  land  of  "manana,"  and  China  the  land  of 
"maskee,"  so  Java  is  the  land  of  "never  mind."  You 
will  hear  the  expression  dozens  of  times  in  the 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  373 

course  of  a  talk  between  residents  of  Java — at  the 
beginning,  in  the  middle,  and  at  the  end  of  sen- 
tences. 

"I  think  it  will  rain  to-morrow,  but — never 
mind." 

"I  missed  the  train,  but — never  mind." 
"I'm  not  feeling  well,  but — never  mind." 
You  hear  it  all  the  time,  all  through  Java. 
In  Java  we  had  the  best  coffee  we  had  struck 
since  leaving  Paris,  in  fact,  the  first  real  good  cof- 
fee we  had  found.    Even  worthy  Abdullah,  our 
camp  cook,  was  considerable  of  a  failure  at  coffee 
making.    The  Boro  Boedoer  ruins  are  among  the 
most  stupendous  in  the  world;  the  volcanoes  of 
Java  are  like  chimneys  in  Pittsburg,  the  terraced 
rice  fields  are  beautiful  beyond  belief,  but — never 
mind.  I  think  I  shall  remember  Java  chiefly  for  its 
delicious  coffee  and  for  my  house-to-house  hunt  for 
a  waterwheel. 

I  was  sitting  one  day  in  the  Singapore  club  talk- 
ing to  Colonel  Glover  of  the  British  army,  when 
a  hand  tapped  me  on  my  shoulder.  I  looked  around 
and  there  stood  the  King  of  Christmas  Island.  I 
no  more  expected  to  see  him  than  I  did  the  great 
Emperor  Charlemagne,  for  it  had  been  many  years 
since  we  were  college  mates  at  Purdue  University. 
His  story  is  romantic.  He  is  the  nephew  of  Sir 
John  Murray,  who  owns  immense  phosphate  de- 
posits in  Christmas  Island,  two  hundred  miles  south 
of  Java  Head.  Years  ago  he  went  out  to  help  work 
these  great  deposits  and  has  climbed  up  until  now 


374 


IN    AFRICA 


he  is  the  virtual  head  of  the  island.  His  authority  is 
absolute  and  he  has  come  to  be  called  the  King  of 
Christmas  Island.  His  every-day  name  is  that  of 
his  distinguished  uncle,  Sir  John,  but  his  Sunday 
name  is  "King." 

For  a  day  or  two  we  motored  around  Singapore 
and  it  was  worth  seeing  to  note  how  the  tourists 
stared  when  I  casually  said,  "Well,  King,  let's  have 


The  Call  of  the  East 

a  bamboo."  In  a  day  or  two  he  was  going  to  meet 
his  wife,  who  was  just  coming  from  England  with 
a  little  three-months-old  crown  prince  whom  he  had 
not  yet  seen.  Then,  together,  the  royal  family  was 
going  back  to  Christmas  Island  on  one  of  the  king's 
ships. 

The  China  coast  is  distinguished  for  its  excellent 
United  States  consular  officials.  And  it  hasn't  been 
so  for  many  years.  Our  representative  in  Singa- 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  375 

pore,  Mr.  Dubois,  is  one  of  the  best  men  I  have  yet 
encountered  in  one  of  our  consulates.  He  is  a  new- 
comer in  Singapore  and  yet  in  his  few  months  he 
has  added  more  prestige  to  our  consulate  general 
than  all  the  former  men  put  together.  One  can  not 
but  wonder  why  he  is  not  a  minister  or  an  ambassa- 
dor, instead  of  only  a  consul  general. 

Hongkong  has  been  fortunate  in  having  an  ex- 
cellent representative  in  Mr.  Rublee,  and  his  recent 
untimely  death  is  a  distinct  loss  to  the  country.  Mr. 
Wilder  is  in  Shanghai  and  he  is  decidedly  a  man  of 
the  best  mental  and  temperamental  equipment.  So 
now  an  American  traveler  may  go  up  and  down  the 
China  coast  and  "point  with  pride"  to  his  nation's 
representatives.  How  different  it  was  ten  or  twelve 
years  ago ! 

We  barely  managed  to  get  on  board  the  Prinz 
Ludwig — Singapore  to  Hongkong.  It  is  one  of 
the  X.  D.  Lloyd's  crack  ships  and  everybody  tries 
to  take  it.  We  got  the  last  cabin,  as  usual,  and  spent 
hours  thanking  our  lucky  stars. 

The  China  Sea  is  chronically  disposed  to  be  dis- 
agreeable, but  on  this  occasion  it  was  quite  well 
behaved.  There  were  three  days  of  delightful  sun- 
shine and  then  a  sudden  blighting  chill  in  the  air. 
We  landed  in  Hongkong  with  overcoats  buttoned 
up  and  with  garments  drenched  by  the  rains  and 
mist  clouds  that  battled  around  the  great  peaks  of 
this  little  island.  The  hotels  were  jammed  to  the 
sidewalks  and  we  got  the  last  room  at  the 
Hongkong  Hotel,  while  throngs  were  turned  away; 


376  IN    AFRICA 

the  steamers  for  the  States  were  booked  full  for 
several  voyages  ahead  and  tourists  were  rushing 
around  in  despair.  The  Asia  had  been  booked  up  to 
the  limit  for  weeks  and  it  seemed  as  if  we  might 
have  to  wait  a  long  time  before  getting  berths  on 
any  ship.  But  some  one  unexpectedly  had  to  give 
up  a  state-room  and  we  were  fortunate  in  getting  it. 

I  had  a  great  desire  to  see  Manila  again.  It  had 
been  ten  years  since  I  left  there  in  the  "days  of  the 
empire"  and  everything  in  me  quivered  with  long- 
ing to  revisit  the  place  where  I  spent  my  golden 
period  of  adventure.  We  booked  on  the  old  Yuen 
Sang,  a  friend  of  former  days,  and  the  skipper, 
Captain  Percy  Rolf  e,  handsome,  cultured,  and  cap- 
able, was  still  in  command.  He  loves  the  China 
Sea  and  has  steadfastly  refused  to  be  lured  away 
by  offers  of  greater  ships  and  more  important  com- 
mands. When  we  engaged  our  passage  the  agent 
warned  us  that  the  vessel  was  carrying  a  cargo  of 
naphtha  and  kerosene  and  that  we  might  not  wish 
to  risk  it ;  but  we  went.  A  Jap  and  a  Chinaman  were 
the  only  two  other  passengers,  and  they  were  in- 
visible during  the  sixty  hours  to  cross. 

We  steamed  out  of  Hongkong  in  a  chilling  wind 
and  at  once  plunged  into  a  fog,  but  the  next  morn- 
ing we  ran  into  smooth  seas  and  warm  weather.  A 
full  moon  hung  over  the  empty  waste  of  waters  and 
the  nights  were  gorgeous. 

As  we  neared  the  coast  of  Luzon  I  became  much 
excited,  for  in  my  memory  were  those  vivid,  ex- 
pectant days  of  old  when  our  little  American  fleet 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  377 

crossed  this  selfsame  stretch  of  sea  to  find  and  de- 
stroy the  Spanish  ships.  I  lived  over  again  those 
boding  days  when  the  air  was  electric  with  impend- 
ing danger. 

It  was  long  before  daylight  when  the  Yuen  Sang, 
at  half-speed,  arrived  at  Corregidor.  The  captain 
wished  to  report  his  number  to  the  signal  station, 
and  we  had  to  wait  until  light  had  come  before  the 
ship  could  enter.  So  the  engines  were  stopped  and 
for  an  hour  we  drifted  on  under  the  ship's  mo- 
mentum. The  silencing  of  the  engines  on  a  ship  is 
always  ominous,  and  just  now,  with  the  dim  bulk 
of  Corregidor  looming  grimly  before  us,  it  seemed 
as  if  there  was  something  particularly  sinister  about 
our  stealthy  approach. 

From  five  o'clock  onward  we  stood  on  the  bridge, 
our  voices  unconsciously  hushed  as  we  spoke.  Here 
was  where  the  Baltimore  had  dropped  a  Greek  fire 
life  preserver  and  for  a  long  time  it  had  bobbed 
about  on  the  tumbling  sea,  weird  and  terrifying  to 
those  who  didn't  know  what  it  was.  There  was 
where  the  soot  in  the  McCulloch's  funnel  had  sud- 
denly blazed  up  like  the  chimney  of  a  blast  furnace. 
And  over  there  on  the  lower  edge  of  the  black  bulk 
of  the  island  was  where  a  little  signal  light  had 
flared  up  and  then  died  out,  leaving  every  man  on 
our  ships  tense  with  expectant  dread,  and  all  about 
us  here  had  reigned  a  silence  so  penetrating  that  it 
in  itself  was  harder  to  bear  than  the  thunder  and 
flash  of  guns. 

And  still  we  drifted  on,  nearer  and  nearer  to 


378  IN    AFRICA 

Boca  Chica,  the  northern  passage  into  Manila  Bay. 
Dawn  and  light  came  slowly.  In  poetry  the  dawn 
of  the  tropics  may  come  up  like  thunder  and  the 
transition  of  darkness  to  light  may  be  startling  and 
sudden,  but  in  my  own  experience  the  tropic  dawn 
comes  slowly  and  pervadingly.  First  a  faint  gray- 
ness,  gradually  growing  brighter  until  the  sun 
shoots  up  joyous  and  golden  in  its  glory,  painting 
the  skies  with  flaming  banners  and  penciling  the 
tips  and  edges  of  clouds  with  the  fires  of  morning. 
When  we  lazily  drifted  in  toward  Corregidor  from 
the  China  Sea  that  morning,  it  was  light  enough  to 
see  distinctly  for  nearly  an  hour  before  the  sun  rose. 

Presently  a  fluttering  string  of  signal  flags  ap- 
peared on  the  top  of  the  island,  and  a  moment  later 
our  engines  resumed  their  throbbing  and  we  headed 
boldly  into  Boca  Chica.  Here  on  the  left  was 
Mariveles  Bay,  the  scene  of  the  famous  German 
ship,  Irene,  incident,  which  electrified  the  world. 

Every  point  that  rose  before  my  eyes  was  preg- 
nant with  historic  memories  and  suggestions.  I  was 
thrilled  and  yet  I  half -dreaded  my  return  to  Ma- 
nila, for  fear  that  the  peace  and  commercialism  of 
the  present  days  would  be  disappointing  to  one  who 
knew  it  when  each  day  was  filled  with  trouble  and 
threats  of  trouble;  when  the  city  lay  always  as  if 
under  an  impending  cloud  and  when  the  borders  of 
the  bay  rang  with  the  thunder  of  guns  and  the  sput- 
ter of  musketry. 

As  the  Yuen  Sang  steamed  across  the  twenty-five 
miles  of  the  bay  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  only  y ester- 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  379 

day  that  I  had  been  there.  The  waters  were  glassy 
and  smooth,  just  as  the  bay  used  to  be  every  morn- 
ing of  the  long  blockade,  when  the  air  was  still  and 
the  broad  glistening  water  was  tranquil  and  at  rest. 

The  surprises  came  in  Manila.  Great  changes  had 
taken  place  in  the  harbor,  new  breakwaters  were 
where  there  had  been  none  before,  new  buildings 
were  up,  and  still  more  were  building.  Big  electric 
cars  rushed  along  where  formerly  the  snail-like 
horse  cars  crept  painfully  by.  The  city  was  unbe- 
lievably clean  and  the  main  streets  were  full  of 
busy  life. 

I  visited  the  old  houses  where  we  had  once  lived 
in  economical  splendor,  with  servants  and  carriages 
and  expenses  that  were  microscopic  as  compared  to 
those  of  the  present  day.  Upon  all  sides  were  the 
visible  evidences  that  some  day  Manila  will  be  the 
finest  city  of  the  Orient  if  the  time  ever  comes  when 
capital  may  feel  assured  that  our  occupation  has 
some  prospect  of  permanence. 

In  my  old  days  I  used  to  know  a  beautiful  Mes- 
tiza  girl  in  Manila.  She  was  very  pretty  and  very 
nice.  I  used  to  draw  pictures  of  her  and  struggle 
bravely  with  the  Spanish  language.  And  she  was 
kind  and  patient  with  my  efforts  to  learn.  Her 
name  was  Victoria  and  she  kept  a  little  shop  where 
she  and  her  ancestors  for  generations  before  had 
sold  silk  jusi  and  pina  cloth.  I  visited  her  often 
there  and  sometimes  went  out  to  her  home,  a  beauti- 
ful big  Spanish  house  in  Calle  Zarigoza. 

I  determined  to  find  her  and  went  over  to  her 


380 


IN    AFRICA 


shop.  Fatal  mistake !  Ten  .years  and  the  tropics 
work  many  changes  in  the  soft-eyed  daughters 
south  of  the  fifteenth  degree  of  latitude. 

I  once  read  a  story  by  Pierre  Loti,  a  sad  and 
haunting  story  of  how  he  sought,  after  years  of 
absence,  to  find  an  old-time  sweetheart  in  Stamboul. 


Ten  Years  After 

He  didn't  find  her  and  he  should  be  grateful  for 
his  failure. 

I  found  Victoria.  She  recognized  me  at  once,  al- 
though I  hardly  knew  in  her  the  slender,  pretty 
Victoria  of  old.  Her  eyes  were  soft  and  nice,  but 
smallpox  had  pitted  her  nose  and  cheeks  and  the 
deadly  incubus  of  flesh  had  upholstered  her  in  many 
soft  and  cushiony  folds.  I  asked  her  if  she  had 
married  and  she  said  she  never  had,  which  inf  orma- 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  381 

tion  I  matched  with  promptness.  She  spoke  Eng- 
lish quite  well  and  seemed  prosperous  and — yes, 
motherly.  There's  no  other  word  for  it,  although 
she  is  now  hardly  thirty. 

It  was  a  terrible  disappointment,  a  collapse  of 
delightful  memories,  and  as  I  walked  away  from 
her  little  silk  shop  with  a  vague  promise  to  call 
again  I  knew  perfectly  well  that  I  should  never  go 
back. 

I  left  Manila  after  less  than  two  days  and  rolled 
and  plunged  and  tumbled  back  across  the  China  Sea 
to  Hongkong.  I  bought  a  little  chow  dog  puppy 
from  the  Chinese  steward  on  board,  but  I  suppose 
it  will  grow  up  and  get  fat  one  of  these  days,  too. 
Allison  Armour  and  his  nephew,  Norman  Armour, 
were  with  us  and  in  Hongkong  the  latter  bought 
two  chow  dog  puppies  to  send  home.  They  looked 
exactly  like  teddy  bears.  Later  he  resolved  that 
the  trouble  and  risk  were  too  great,  inasmuch  as  he 
was  not  returning  by  the  Pacific,  so  he  gave  them 
to  me.  And  with  three  chow  dogs  and  my  friend 
Stephenson  I  embarked  on  the  Asia  for  the  twenty- 
eight  day  trip  to  Frisco. 

The  ship  was  jammed  and  we  found  a  little  fat 
man  consigned  to  the  sofa  in  our  state-room.  He 
was  pleasant  looking,  but  we  little  realized  what 
hours  of  nocturnal  horror  were  in  store  for  us.  He 
was  the  champion  snorist  of  the  five  continents.  He 
could  snore  in  all  keys,  all  languages,  all  directions, 
and  it  was  like  trying  to  sleep  in  the  same  room  with 
a  fog-horn.  Nothing  could  waken  him  and  he  went 


382 


IN    AFRICA 


to  sleep  before  he  struck  the  bed.  And  from  that 
moment  on  through  the  night  he  tried  the  acoustic 
properties  of  that  end  of  the  ship  to  the  utmost. 
After  two  or  three  nights  of  sleeplessness  we  re- 
solved to  rebel,  mutiny,  revolt,  and  if  necessary  joy- 
fully to  commit  justifiable  homicide. 

One  night  Stephenson  turned  on  the  light  and 


Never  an  American  Flag 

reached  for  his  cane.  "What  are  you  going  to  do? 
Kill  him?"  I  asked  eagerly.  But  he  only  poked  at 
the  quivering  form  to  awaken  it,  and  merely  suc- 
ceeded in  changing  the  key  from  B  flat  to  a  discord 
of  minors. 

At  Yokohama  somebody  got  off  and  by  buying 
an  extra  berth  we  moved  into  another  state-room  and 
slept  for  twenty-four  hours.  We  called  him  "Snor- 


BACK    TO    CIVILIZATION  383 

ing  Cupid,"  because  of  his  cherubic  appearance  and 
proficiency  in  snoring. 

It  was  the  cherry  blossom  season  in  Japan. 
Through  the  constant  rain  we  saw  the  hillsides  pink 
with  loveliness.  But  it  was  cold  and  disheartening 
and  after  five  days  in  Japan  we  turned  with  relief 
to  the  voyage  homeward.  And  it  was  very  pleasant. 
Lots  of  pleasant  things  happened,  but  nothing 
more. 

It  is  good  to  be  back  where  the  American  flag  is 
a  familiar  sight  and  not  a  curiosity.  We  saw  thou- 
sands and  thousands  of  merchant  ships,  but  except 
in  Manila  and  Honolulu  we  never  saw  a  solitary 
American  flag  on  one  of  them. 

And  that's  the  end  of  our  hunting  trip.  We  are 
now  back  where  we  have  to  pay  two  or  three  times 
as  much  for  things  as  we  did  in  the  Orient.  A  cigar 
that  costs  three  cents  gold  in  Manila  costs  twelve 
and  one-half  cents  gold  in  San  Francisco!  But — 
never  mind.  A  pleasant  time  was  had. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

WAYS  AND  MEANS.    WHAT  TO  TAKE  AND  WHAT  NOT 

TO  TAKE.    INFORMATION  FOR  THOSE  THAT 

WISH,  INTEND  OR  HOPE  TO  HUNT  IN 

THE  AFRICAN  HIGHLANDS 

WHEN  one  returns  to  America  after  some  time  in 
the  African  game  country,  he  is  assailed  by  many 
questions  from  others  who  wish,  intend,  or  hope  to 
make  a  similar  trip.  Almost  without  variation  the 
questioner  will  ask  about  the  cost,  about  the  danger 
from  fever  and  sickness,  about  snakes  and  insects, 
about  the  tempers  of  the  tribes  one  encounters,  and 
then,  if  he  be  a  specialist,  he  will  ask  about  the  rifles 
and  the  camp  equipment.  As  these  familiar  and 
oft  repeated  inquiries  have  been  made  by  friends 
who  had  read  my  African  letters,  I  must  assume 
that  the  features  of  an  African  hunting  trip,  about 
which  people  are  most  curious,  were  very  imper- 
fectly answered  in  the  preceding  chapters.  Hence, 
this  supplementary  chapter,  dealing  briefly  with  the 
ways  and  means  of  such  a  trip,  is  added  for  the  en- 
lightenment of  such  readers  as  may  be  planning  a 
journey  into  those  fascinating  regions  of  Africa 
where  I  have  so  recently  been. 

384 


WAYS    AND    MEANS  385 

As  to  the  cost  of  a  trip  of  three  or  more  months  in 
the  field  I  should  say  that  about  one  thousand  dol- 
lars a  month  would  amply  cover  the  total  expenses 
from  New  York  back  to  New  York.  This  amount 
would  include  passage  money,  guns,  ammunition, 
landing  charges,  commissions,  camera  expenses  on 
a  reasonable  scale,  tents,  customs — in  fact  all  the  in- 
cidental items  which  are  not  customarily  included 
in  the  estimate  given  by  the  Nairobi  outfitters. 
These  firms,  chief  of  which  are  the  Newland,  Tarl- 
ton  and  Company,  Limited,  which  directed  Colonel 
Roosevelt's  safari,  and  the  Boma  Trading  Com- 
pany, which  directed  the  Duke  of  Connaught's 
hunt,  agree  to  outfit  a  party  at  a  cost  of  about  five- 
hundred  dollars  a  month  for  each  white  man.  For 
this  amount  they  furnish  everything  except  your 
ammunition,  clothes,  medicines,  camera  supplies, 
export  and  import  duties,  mounting  of  trophies, 
passage  money  to  and  from  Africa,  and  such  items. 
To  particularize,  they  agree  to  supply  for  this 
amount,  a  complete  outfit  of  tents,  foods,  porters, 
camp  attendants,  gunbearers,  horses,  mules  or  ox 
teams,  as  may  be  required,  and  a  native  head-man 
or  overseer. 

One  who  wished  to  do  so  could  telegraph  ahead 
to  have  one  of  the  Nairobi  outfitting  firms  pre- 
pare a  one,  twro  or  three  months'  hunt,  or  safari, 
and  then,  with  only  a  suit-case  he  could  arrive, 
with  the  certainty  that  everything  would  be  in 
readiness.  There  would  be  no  worry  or  concern 
about  any  feature  of  that  part  of  the  work.  He 


386  IN    AFRICA 

would  be  relieved  of  the  anxiety  of  preparation, 
and  it  is  hardly  likely  that  he  would  ever  regret  hav- 
ing taken  this  course.  The  dealings  of  our  safari 
with  Messrs.  Newland  and  Tarlton  were  most  satis- 
factory in  all  respects  and  the  charges  they  made 
were  entirely  reasonable.  To  the  one  who  desires 
to  make  this  trip  in  this,  the  simplest  way,  there  is 
the  need  of  giving  only  one  suggestion:  Let  him 
write  to  one  of  the  outfitting  firms,  stating  the 
length  of  time  that  he  can  spend  in  the  field,  the 
class  of  game  that  he  chiefly  wishes  to  get,  the  num- 
ber of  white  men  in  his  party,  and  the  season  of  the 
year  that  he  plans  to  be  in  Africa.  The  outfitters 
will  then  answer,  giving  all  the  particulars  of  cost 
and  equipment.  This  is  the  course  that  I  should 
recommend  for  the  average  hunter  who  has  had  no 
previous  experience  in  Africa.  It  will  save  him  the 
trouble  of  making  an  endless  amount  of  prepara- 
tion, much  of  which  will  be  useless  because  of  his 
ignorance  of  conditions  in  that  field  of  sport. 

In  the  case  of  our  own  safari,  we  bought  our 
guns,  tents,  ammunition,  foods  and  entire  equip- 
ment in  London  and  had  it  shipped  to  Nairobi. 
This  equipment  contemplated  a  trip  of  six  months 
in  the  field,  and  included  sixty-five  "chop  boxes"  of 
sixty  pounds  each,  containing  foods.  These  chop 
boxes  were  of  wood,  with  lids  and  locks,  twenty  of 
which  were  tin  lined  for  use  in  packing  specimens 
later  in  the  trip,  and  all  marked  with  bands  of  vari- 
ous colors  to  identify  their  contents.  The  boxes 
contained  the  following  supplies : 


WAYS    AND    MEANS  387 

TWENTY  CASES  (RED  BAND) 

Two  tins  imperial  cheese. 

One  pound  Ceylon  tea. 

One  three-quarter  pound  tin  ground  coffee. 

One  four-pound  tin  granulated  sugar. 

Two  tins  ox  tongue. 

One  tin  oxford  sausage. 

Two  tins  sardines. 

Two  tins  kippered  herrings. 

Three  tins  deviled  ham  (Underwood's). 

Two  tins  jam  (assorted). 

Two  tins  marmalade  (Dundee). 

Three  half-pound  tins  butter. 

Three  half-pound  tins  dripping. 

Ten  half-pound  tins  ideal  milk. 

Two  tins  small  captain  biscuit. 

Two  tins  baked  beans,  Heinz  (tomato  sauce) . 

One  half-pound  tin  salt. 

One  two-pound  tin  chocolate  (Army  and  Navy) . 

Two  parchment  skins  pea  soup. 

One  one  and  one-half  pound  tin  Scotch  oatmeal. 

TWENTY  CASES  (BLUE  BAND) 

Two  tins  baked  beans  (Heinz)  (tomato  sauce). 

One  tin  bologna  sausage. 

One  tin  sardines. 

One  tin  sardines,  smoked. 

Two  one-pound  tins  camp,  pie. 

Five  tins  jam,  assorted. 

Two  tins  marmalade  (Dundee). 


388  IN    AFRICA 

Five  half-pound  tins  butter. 

Three  half-pound  tins  dripping. 

Ten  half-pound  tins  ideal  milk. 

Two  tins  imperial  cheese. 

One  one  and  one-quarter  pound  tin  Ceylon  tea. 

One  three-quarter  pound  tin  ground  coffee. 

One  four  pound  tin  granulated  sugar. 

One  quarter-pound  tin  cocoa. 

Two  tins  camp  biscuit. 

One  half-pound  tin  salt. 

One  one  and  one-half  tin  Scotch  oatmeal. 

One  one-pound  tin  lentils. 

One  tin  mixed  vegetables  (dried) . 

One  two-pound  tin  German  prunes. 

Six  soup  squares. 

One  ounce  W.  pepper. 

Two  sponge  cloths. 

One-half  quire  kitchen  paper. 

One  two-pound  tin  chocolate  (Army  and  Navy) . 

SIXTEEN  CASES  (GREEN  BAND) 

Three  fourteen-pound  tins  self-raising  flour. 

Two  cases  (black  band)  containing  fifteen  bot- 
tles lime  juice  (plain)  Montserrat. 

Two  cases,  each  containing  one  dozen  Scotch 
whisky. 

Two  cases  (red  and  blue  band)  thirty  pounds 
bacon,  well  packed  in  salt. 

Two  cases  (yellow  and  black  band)  five  ten- 
pound  tins  plaster  of  Paris  for  making  casts  of  ani- 
mals. 


WAYS    AND    MEANS  389 

One  case    (red  and  green  band)    fifty  pounds 
sperm  candles — large  size  (carriage). 
Four  folding  lanterns. 

The  following  items  to  be  equally  divided  into  as 
many  lots  as  necessary  to  make  sixty-pound  cases : 

Eight  Edam  cheeses. 

Twenty  tins  bovril. 

Twenty  two-pound  tins  sultana  raisins. 

Ten  two-pound  tins  currants. 

Ten  one-pound  tins  macaroni. 

Thirty  tins  Underwood  deviled  ham. 

Eighty  tablets  carbolic  soap. 

Eighty  packets  toilet  paper. 

Ten  bottles  Enos'  fruit  salt. 

Twenty  one-pound  tins  plum  pudding. 

Six  tins  curry  powder. 

Twenty  one-pound  tins  yellow  Dubbin. 

Six  one-pound  tins  veterinary  vaseline. 

Six  one-pound  tins  powdered  sugar. 

Six  tin  openers. 

Twelve  tins  asparagus  tips. 

Twelve  tins  black  mushrooms. 

Six  large  bottles  Pond's  extract. 

Twelve  ten-yard  spools  zinc  oxide  surgeon's  tape 
one  inch  wide. 

Two  small  bottles  Worcestershire  sauce. 

In  addition  to  the  foregoing  we  added  the  fol- 
lowing equipment  of  table  ware: 

Eight  white  enamel  soup  plates — light  weight. 
Eight  white  enamel  dinner  plates — light  weight. 


390  IN    AFRICA 

Three  white  enamel  vegetable  dishes — medium 
size. 

Six  one-pint  cups. 

Eight  knives  and  forks. 

Twelve  teaspoons. 

Six  soup  spoons. 

Six  large  table-spoons. 

One  carving  knife  and  fork. 

Six  white  enamel  oatmeal  dishes. 

As  our  tent  equipment  and  some  of  the  miscel- 
lanies necessary  to  our  expedition,  the  subjoined  ar- 
ticles were  procured: 

Four  double  roof  ridge  tents  10  by  8 — 4  feet 
walls,  in  valises. 

One  extra  fly  of  above  size,  with  poles,  ropes,  etc., 
complete. 

Five  ground  sheets  for  above,  one  foot  larger 
each  way,  i.  e.,  11  by  9. 

Four  mosquito  nets  for  one-half  tents,  9  feet 
long. 

Four  circular  canvas  baths. 

Twelve  green,  round-bottom  bags  43  by  30. 

Four  hold-all  bags  with  padlocks. 

Two  fifty-yard  coils  11-4  Manila  rope. 

One  pair  wood  blocks  for  11-4  brass  sheaves, 
strapped  with  tails. 

Four  four-quart  tin  water  bottles. 

Two  eight-quart  Uganda  water  bottles. 

Four  large  canvas  water  buckets. 

One  gross  No.  1  circlets. 


WAYS    AND    MEANS  891 

One  punch  and  die. 

The  foregoing  lot  of  supplies  were  ordered 
through  Newland,  Tarlton  and  Company's  agent 
at  166  Piccadilly,  London,  and  were  ready  when  we 
reached  London. 

MEDICINES  AND  SURGICAL  EQUIPMENT 

It  is  well  to  provide  a  good  store  of  medicines 
and  some  instruments,  even  though,  as  in  our  case, 
we  had  little  occasion  to  use  any  of  it.  One  of  the 
Burroughs  and  Wellcome  medicine  cases  "for  East 
Africa"  is  compact  and  well  selected.  In  addition 
there  should  be  plenty  of  zinc  oxide  adhesive  plas- 
ter, some  bandages  and  some  hypodermic  syringes 
for  use  in  case  of  wounds  which  might  lead  to  blood 
poisoning.  In  our  first  experience  with  lions  we  al- 
ways went  prepared  for  wounds  of  this  sort,  but 
later  we  took  no  precautions  whatever  and  fortu- 
nately had  no  occasion  for  heroic  measures.  At  the 
same  time,  it  is  far  wiser  always  to  be  prepared. 

We  were  also  well  supplied  with  tick  medicines, 
but  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  we  encountered  mil- 
lions of  ticks,  they  gave  us  no  concern  and  no  tick 
preventatives  were  used.  Quinine  and  calomel  are 
essentials  and  may  be  bought  in  Nairobi. 

I 

RIFLES 

It  is  important  that  each  hunter  include  in  his 
battery  one  heavy  double-barreled  cordite  rifle  for 
use  at  close  quarters  where  a  shocking  impact  is 
desirable.  Each  of  our  party  had  a  .475  Jeffery, 


392  IN    AFRICA 

which  we  found  to  be  entirely  satisfactory,  and 
which  served  us  as  well  as  though  we  had  used  the 
more  expensive  Holland  and  Holland's  .450.  I  do 
not  presume  to  know  much  about  the  relative  merits 
of  rifles,  but  after  an  experience  of  four  and  a  half 
months  with  the  Jeifery's  .475,  I  feel  justified  in 
saying  that  this  type  would  meet  all  requirements 
reliably.  These  rifles  cost  thirty-five  guineas  each. 

Mr.  Akeley  and  I  each  had  a  nine  millimeter 
Mannlicher,  which  we  found  to  be  unsatisfactory, 
either  through  fault  of  our  own  or  of  the  rifle.  We 
had  a  feeling  that  the  weight  of  the  ball  was  too 
great  for  the  charge  of  powder.  Others  may  favor 
it,  but  I  should  not  include  it  in  my  battery  if  I 
were  to  go  again.  This  type  costs  twelve  guineas. 

Mr.  Stephenson  used  a  .318  Mauser,  which  he 
found  most  satisfactory.  We  also  had  three  .256 
Mannlichers,  which  in  my  experience  is  a  type 
for  which  too  much  praise  can  not  be  given.  It  is 
also  a  twelve  guinea  rifle. 

In  mentioning  these  three  rifles  of  foreign  make, 
I  do  not  wish  to  imply  that  they  are  superior  to  our 
own  American  guns.  Colonel  Roosevelt  used  a 
Winchester  .405  and  a  Springfield,  both  of  which 
he  considered  most  desirable.  I  think  if  I  were  to 
go  again  I  should  take  a  .405  as  my  second  gun, 
heavy  enough  for  all  purposes  except  the  close- 
quarter  work  where  the  big  cordite  double-barrels 
are  necessary. 

The  matter  of  a  battery  is  one  which  each  sports- 


WAYS    AND    MEANS  393 

man  should  determine  for  himself.  There  are  many 
good  types  and  a  man  is  naturally  inclined  to  fa- 
vor those  with  which  he  is  familiar. 

We  also  carried  shot  guns,  one  ten-gauge  which, 
with  buck  shot,  makes  a  formidable  weapon  for 
stopping  charges  of  soft-skinned  animals  at  close 
range;  and  two  twenty-gauge  Parkers  for  bird 
shooting. 

In  addition,  we  included  revolvers,  none  of  which 
we  fired  or  needed  at  any  time  in  Africa.  Perhaps 
a  heavy  six-shooter  might  some  time  be  a  valuable 
reserve,  but  our  experience  leads  me  to  think  that  it 
would  generally  repose  quietly  in  camp  at  all  times. 

In  the  way  of  ammunition  for  a  six-months' 
shoot,  we  took  for  each  cordite  rifle,  200  full  mantle, 
200  soft  nose  and  100  split  cartridges.  For  the  9 
millimeter,  we  took  for  each  rifle  450  solids,  500 
splits  and  500  soft-nosed  bullets,  and  practically 
the  same  for  the  .256  Mannlichers.  We  found  that 
we  had  far  more  ammunition  than  we  required,  es- 
pecially the  solids  for  the  smaller  rifles,  but  it  is 
better  to  have  too  much  than  to  have  the  fear  of 
running  short.  One  should  not  forget  that  he  is 
likely  to  shoot  more  than  in  his  wildest  dreams  he 
supposed  possible  and  the  meanest  feeling  on  a 
hunt  is  to  have  constantly  to  economize  cartridges. 

None  of  us  used  telescope  sights  but  by  many 
sportsmen  they  are  considered  highly  desirable  in 
African  shooting  where  often  the  range  is  great 
and  the  light  confusing. 


394  IN    AFRICA 

PERSONAL  EQUIPMENT 

When  we  stopped  in  New  York  on  our  way  to 
Africa,  we  talked  with  Mr.  Bayard  Dominick,  who 
had  just  returned  from  such  a  trip  as  we  had  in 
mind,  and  from  him  secured  a  list  of  articles  which 
he  found  to  be  sufficient  and  equal  to  all  needs.  We 
used  this  list  to  guide  us  and  except  in  minor  de- 
tails, assembled  a  similar  equipment: 

Two  suits — coat  and  breeches — gabardine  or 
khaki. 

One  belt. 

Two  knives — one  hunting-knife,  one  jack-knife. 

Three  pair  cloth  putties. 

Three  flannel  shirts  (I  actually  only  used  two) . 

Six  suits  summer  flannels,  merino,  long  drawers. 

Three  pair  Abercrombie  lightest  shoes  (one  pair 
rubber  soles). 

Three  colored  silk  handkerchiefs. 

Two  face  towels — two  bath  towels. 

Three  khaki  cartridge  holders  to  put  on  shirts  to 
hold  big  cartridges,  one  for  each  shirt. 

One  pair  long  trousers  to  put  on  at  night,  khaki. 

Two  suits  flannel  pajamas. 

Eight  pair  socks  (I  used  gray  Jaeger  socks, 
fine). 

One  light  west  sweater. 

One  Mackinaw  coat  (not  absolutely  necessary) . 

One  rubber  coat. 

One  pair  mosquito  boots  (Lawn  and  Alder,  Lon- 
don). Soft  leather  top  boots  for  evening  wear  in 
camp. 


WAYS    AND    MEANS  395 

Five  leather  pockets  to  hold  cartridges  to  go  on 
belt. 

Three  whetstones  (one  for  self  and  two  for  gun- 
bearers  ) . 

One  helmet  (we  used  Gyppy  pattern  Army  and 
Navy  stores). 

One  double  terai  hat,  brown  (Army  and  Navy 
stores). 

One  six-  or  eight-foot  pocket  tape  of  steel  to 
measure  horns. 

One  compass. 

One  diary. 

Writing  materials. 

Toilet  articles. 

Articles  for  personal  use,  however,  may  be  deter- 
mined by  the  wishes  and  experiences  of  the  indi- 
vidual. 

We  each  had  good  Zeiss  glasses,  which  are  es- 
sential, and  later,  in  Nairobi,  were  able  to  obtain  a 
satisfactory  replenishment  of  hunting  clothes  and 
shoes. 

CAMERAS 

Everybody  who  goes  shooting  will  want  at  least 
one  camera  if  only  for  the  purpose  of  having  his 
picture  taken  with  his  first  lion,  if  he  is  successful 
in  getting  one.  Mr.  Akeley  made  special  prepara- 
tions for  taking  fine  photographs,  and  for  this  rea- 
son carried  a  complete  outfit,  even  to  a  dark-room 
equipment  for  developing  negatives  and  moving 
picture  films  in  the  field.  He  carried  a  naturalist's 
graflex,  a  small  hand  camera  and  a  moving-picture 


396  IN   AFRICA 

machine.  Mr.  Stephenson  had  a  3A  Kodak,  I  had 
the  same  and  also  a  Verascope  stereoscopic  camera. 
We  used  films  and  plates  and  found  no  deteriora- 
tion in  them  even  after  several  months  in  the  field. 
Films  and  camera  supplies  may  be  purchased  in 
Nairobi ;  and  also  the  developing  and  printing  may 
be  done  most  satisfactorily  in  the  town. 

FEVERS  AND  SICKNESS 

It  is  my  belief  that  the  dangers  of  this  sort  are 
magnified  in  the  imaginations  of  those  who  con- 
template a  trip  to  East  Africa.  Very  little  of  the 
hunting  is  done  in  jungles — in  fact  there  are  few 
jungles  except  on  the  slopes  of  the  mountains  and 
along  the  course  of  streams.  Our  safari  went  into 
the  Athi  Plains,  along  the  Athi  River  down  the 
Tana  River,  up  on  Mount  Kenia  and  later  on  the 
Guas  Ngishu  Plateau,  along  the  Nzoia  River,  and 
up  Mount  Elgon.  Coming  out  of  this  district,  we 
passed  through  the  Rift  Valley  and  part  of  outf 
safari  went  up  to  Lake  Hannington.  So,  from  per- 
sonal experience,  I  can  speak  with  knowledge  of 
only  these  sections.  Along  the  Tana  we  were  in 
fever  country,  the  altitude  being  only  about  thirty- 
five  hundred  feet.  And  yet  only  two  of  our  party 
had  touches  of  fever,  so  light  that  they  readily 
yielded  to  quinine.  This  was  tick  country,  and  we 
had  been  led  to  believe  that  we  should  be  fearfully 
pestered  with  these  insects.  But  there  was  almost 
no  annoyance  from  them,  due,  perhaps,  to  a  good 
deal  of  care  in  keeping  them  out  of  our  clothes. 


WAYS    AND    MEANS  397 

There  were  many  mosquitoes  in  this  section,  but  ef- 
fective mosquito  nets  over  our  cots  protected  us 
from  them. 

On  Mount  Kenia,  the  high  Guas  Ngishu  Plateau 
and  Mount  Elgon,  the  thought  of  sickness  was  en- 
tirely absent.  These  districts  were  found  to  be  salu- 
brious and  free  from  ticks  and  mosquitoes. 

SNAKES 

Before  going  to  Africa,  I  must  admit  that  the 
thought  of  serpents  occasioned  much  anxiety.  I 
didn't  like  the  idea  of  tramping  around  through 
grass  and  reeds  where  poisonous  snakes  might  be 
found.  And  yet,  after  a  few  days  in  the  field,  I 
never  seriously  thought  of  snakes  as  a  possible,  or 
rather'  probable,  source  of  danger.  In  four  and  a 
half  months,  in  all  kinds  of  country,  much  of  the 
time  on  foot,  I  saw  only  six  live  snakes.  They  were 
all  small  and  only  two,  a  puff  adder  and  a  little 
viper,  were  known  to  be  venomous.  Our  porters, 
with  bare  feet  and  legs,  penetrated  all  kinds  of 
snaky-looking  spots  and  yet  not  one  was  bitten.  In 
fact,  I  have  never  heard  of  any  one  being  bitten 
by  snakes  in  East  Africa,  and  for  this  reason  I  can 
not  avoid  the  conclusion  that  the  fear  of  snakes 
need  not  be  seriously  considered  as  an  element  of 
danger  in  the  country. 

THE  NATIVES 

So  many  hunting  parties  have  gone  over  the 
game  fields  that  the  natives  are  familiar  with  white 


398  IN    AFRICA 

men  and  are  not  at  all  likely  to  be  hostile  or  trouble- 
some. Our  safari  at  one  time  went  into  a  district 
where  we  were  warned  to  expect  trouble,  but  there 
was  none  and  I  think  there  never  need  be  any  if  the 
white  men  are  considerate  and  fair.  If  a  district  is 
known  to  be  particularly  troublesome,  the  govern- 
ment authorities  would  not  permit  a  hunting  party 
to  go  into  it,  so  for  that  reason  the  hunters  need  ap- 
prehend no  dangers  from  that  source. 

GAME 

Game  is  found  in  varying  degrees  of  abundance 
in  most  parts  of  the  East  African  highlands.  With- 
in two  hours  of  Nairobi  the  sportsman  may  find 
twelve  or  fifteen  species,  while  within  the  space  of 
four  weeks  a  lucky  hunter  might  secure  elephant, 
lion,  rhinoceros,  buffalo,  eland  and  hippopotamus. 
It  is  hardly  likely  that  he  would,  but  it  is  quite  with- 
in the  range  of  possibilities.  It  all  depends  upon 
luck.  The  hunter  is  allowed  under  his  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollar  license,  about  one  hundred  and 
ninety-five  animals,  comprising  thirty-five  species, 
and  not  including  lion,  leopard,  wart-hog  and 
hyena.  There  is  no  restriction  on  the  number  of 
these  last-named  species  that  one  is  allowed  to  shoot, 
but  there  is  on  the  number  that  he  gets  the  oppor- 
tunity of  shooting. 

The  success  of  an  expedition  should  not  be  meas- 
ured by  the  number  of  trophies,  but  rather  by  the 
quality  of  them.  For  example,  the  new  license  al- 
lows twenty  zebras,  but  no  one  would  want  to  kill 


WAYS    AND    MEANS  399 

more  than  two  unless  as  food  for  the  porters.  The 
same  is  true  of  many  other  species,  and  a  temperate 
sportsman  should  have  no  desire  to  kill  more  than 
a  couple  of  each  species,  say  sixty  or  eighty  head  in 
all,  unless,  of  course,  he  is  making  collections  for 
museums  or  for  other  scientific  purposes. 

The  gunbearers  are  usually  fairly  good  skinners 
and  if  carefully  watched  and  directed  can  treat  the 
heads  and  skins  so  that  they  may  be  safely  got 
in  to  Nairobi.  Here  they  should  be  overhauled  care- 
fully and  packed  in  brine  for  shipment  out  of  the 
country.  The  agents  in  Nairobi  should  be  con- 
sulted about  these  details  and  will  give  competent 
instructions  covering  this  phase  of  the  work. 

GAME  LAWS 

These  are  of  necessity  under  frequent  revision, 
but  the  latest  available  information  allows  the 
holder  of  a  fifty-pound  license,  which  lasts  for  one 
year  from  date  of  issue,  to  kill  or  capture  the  fol- 
lowing : 

Buffalo  (Bull),  2;  *Rhinoceros,  2;  *Hippopot- 
amus,  2;  *Eland,  1;  Zebra  (Grevey's),  2;  Zebra, 
(Common),  20;  Oryx  callotis,  2;  Oryx  beisa,  4; 
Waterbuck  (of  each  species),  2;  Sable  antelope 
(male),  1;  *Roan  antelope  (male),  1;  *Greater 
Kudu  (male),  1;  Lesser  Kudu,  4;  Topi,  2;  Topi 
(in  Jubaland,  Tanaland  and  Loita  Plains),  8; 
Coke's  Hartebeest,  20 ;  *Neumann's  Hartebeest,  2 ; 

*Can  not  be  killed  in  certain  districts. 


400  IN    AFRICA 

Jackson's  Hartebeest,  4;  Hunter's  Antelope,  6; 
Thomas'  Kob,  4;  Bongo,  2;  Impalla,  4;  Sitatunga, 
2 ;  Wildebeest,  3 ;  Grant's  Gazelle  ( Typica,  Notata 
Bright's,  Robertsi),  each,  3;  Gerenuk,  4;  Duiker 
(Harvey's,  Isaac's,  and  Blue),  each,  10;  Dik-dik 
(Kirk's,  Guenther's,  Hinde's,  Cavendish's),  each 
10;  Oribi  (Abyssinian,  Haggard's,  Kenia),  each, 
10;  Surd  (Nesotragus  Moschatus),  10;  Klip- 
springer,  10;  Reedbuck  (Ward's,  Chanler's),  each, 
10;  Gazelle  (Thompson's,  Peter's,  Soemmering's), 
each,  10;  Bushbuck  (Common,  Haywood's),  each, 
10;  Colobi  Monkeys,  of  each  species,  6;  Marabou, 
4 ;  Egret,  of  each  species,  4. 

SPECIAL  LICENSES 

These  can  be  taken  out  for  ten  pounds  each  and 
entitle  the  holder  to  kill  or  capture : 

Elephant  with  tusks  over  thirty  pounds,  each,  1 ; 
Bull  Giraffe  in  certain  districts,  1. 

A  second  elephant  is  allowed  on  payment  of  a 
further  fee  of  twenty  pounds,  this  fee  being  return- 
able in  the  event  of  the  elephant  not  being  obtained. 

Lions  and  leopards  are  classed  as  vermin,  and 
consequently  no  license  to  kill  them  is  required. 

THE  SEASON  FOR  SHOOTING 

"Practically  any  time  of  the  year  will  do  for 
shooting  in  British  East  Africa,  but  the  season  of 
the  'big  rains'  from  the  end  of  January  to  the  end 
of  April,  is  not  one  to  choose  willingly  from  the 
point  of  view  of  comfort.  There  is  also  a  short 


WAYS    AND    MEANS  401 

spell  of  rainy  weather  about  October  and  Novem- 
ber which,  however,  is  not  looked  upon  as  an  ob- 
stacle to  a  safari.,  and  we  may  say  that  from  May  to 
February  constitutes  the  shooting  season." 

The  foregoing  is  quoted  from  a  pamphlet  on 
East  Africa  game  shooting.  In  our  own  experi- 
ence the  weather  between  September  and  Febru- 
ary was  perfectly  delightful  and  I  judge,  from 
reading  accounts  of  Colonel  Roosevelt's  trip,  that 
his  operations  between  April  and  December  were 
never  seriously  hampered  by  bad  weather.  From 
the  experiences  of  these  two  safaris,  one  might  rea- 
sonably conclude  that  any  time  is  good  except  Feb- 
ruary, March  and  April,  the  season  of  the  "big 
rains." 

HEAT 

On  the  Athi  Plains  in  September,  we  found  the 
heat  in  the  middle  of  the  day  to  be  very  ardent,  to 
say  the  least.  But  with  the  exception  of  fewer  than 
a  dozen  days  in  all,  we  never  were  obliged  to  con- 
sider this  phase  of  the  hunting  experience  as  an  ob- 
jectionable feature.  We  found  the  cold  of  the  high 
altitudes  to  be  severe  in  the  evenings  and  in  contrast 
to  it,  the  warm  days  were  most  welcome.  Along  the 
coast,  of  course,  the  heat  is  intense,  but  all  of  the 
shooting  is  done  at  altitudes  exceeding  thirty-five 
hundred  feet  and  one  merely  pauses  at  the  coast 
town  long  enough  to  catch  his  train.  In  September 
even  Mombasa  was  delightful,  but  in  January  it 
was  very  hot. 

In  conclusion,  I  might  say  that  all  one  needs  for 


402  IN    AFRICA 

an  African  hunting  trip  is  sufficient  time,  sufficient 
money,  and  a  fair  degree  of  health.  Also  the  serv- 
ices of  a  reliable  outfitting  firm  which  will  furnish 
enlightenment  upon  all  subjects  not  specifically  in- 
cluded in  the  foregoing  chapter  of  advice  and  in- 
formation. 


With  the  exception  of  the  photographs,  all  of  which 
are  here  reproduced  for  the  first  time,  a  great  part 
of  this  material  appeared  originally  in  The  Chicago 
Tribune,  and  is  now  published  in  book  form  by  the 
courtesy  of  that  paper. 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


;,".•  ~-  s  1 

Ifejfaj 


Series  9482 


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A     000  589  081     9 


i  m 


